Salt in the Wound
by CuriousityKilledTheCatfish
Summary: How does a Capitol escort find her feet amongst the rebels? How does a lifelong drunk find release beyond his bottles? Mockingjay through the eyes of Effie Trinket and Haymitch Abernathy.
1. Chapter One

**A/N: I could not help but imagine _Mockingjay_ through the eyes of Effie Trinket. How would she feel about becoming a political refugee? How does District Thirteen change her? And most importantly, what happened between her and Haymitch that lead up to that goodbye kiss? Please stay if you're also curious.**

 **The title of this fic comes from the song Salt in the Wound by Delta Spirit. This is one of my favourite bands and I feel this song perfectly reflects the mood I hope to achieve in this fic. Also the lyrics are amazing, so go and listen if you can.**

x

 **A/N 2: I wrote this story a couple of years ago. I was going through my hard drive when it popped up and I** **decided to publish it. JUST AS A WARNING: THIS FIC IS NOT COMPLETE. This was my original reason for not publishing it in the first place. PLEASE DON'T GET ANGRY**** because I do not intend to finish it. This is a great ship, but I have moved on to other fandoms.**

 **That being said, if you want a light-hearted story that only goes about 65% into the story before it finished, this is for you. I apologise, but you have been warned.**

x

 **Chapter One**

Fireworks, she thought. Yes, fireworks, she recalled. As clear as day, the images swam in her head.

A vast ballroom with arching grand windows. The air, thick and humid, filled with song and delicious smells. All was illuminated in bright green, then hot pink, then cool blue. She remembered how it showed in Janix's hair. Her blonde locks had taken on whatever colour the fireworks were that night.

Effie wandered why her head so often went back to that memory. Or why she remembered the Tribute's Ball so well as a little girl. It was strange. Of all elaborate Capitol gatherings Effie Trinket had attended in her life, the Tribute's Ball of the 47th Hunger Games was her oldest and clearest memory.

She had worn a purple ballgown, yes - the one mother had gotten her with those sparkling crystals on the sleeves. Crystals were Effie's obsession for a while as a child. She had made sure Katoo platted some more of them into her hair.

That was the first time she felt radiant because of her clothes - and important.

Important amongst Panem's big names. Giles Pewter was the head gamemnaker that year, and she had befriended his children the night. They hind under tables and ran up the staircase to get a better look of the celebration. There she recalls seeing the real life President Snow for the first time. His hair hadn't changed since that night, except for colour, of course. What a strange thought to ever picture the man young. But then there was the other people at the party too. All the past victors, and the fresh tributes, game makers and stylists and the glamorous escorts…

And the fireworks. How the light strangely resembled those fireworks where she stood now.

She had been in the shower when the alarms sounded, trying to get grease out of her fingernails. However pedantically clean she liked to be in the Capitol, had to be thrown out the window. No matter how hard she scrubbed, there always seems to be a layer of something under her feet, in her hair… She didn't tell anyone in fear of bad judgement, but not being able to shower twice a day freaked her Effie out.

Someone had shouted out of the speakers, one of Coins's cronies, she assumed.

"This is a code red alert. Please remain calm and begin evacuation protocol. Proceed in an orderly fashion to your nearest stairwell and…"

Effie would have heard more if it wasn't for the water coming out of the shower to suddenly being cut off. She flinched. Even from far off, she could hear someone else in the bathroom becoming all frantic: "SNOW'S BOMBING US!"

"EVERYONE DOWNSTAIRS!" Another screamed.

"They said _remain calm_!" Effie scolded, to no one in particular. She reached her her towel, thinking at what a particularly inadequate time they decided to practise the air-attack drill. Plutarch had mentioned they were going to do something like this, but she thought it was happening the following everning.

Effie stepped out of the shower, walking towards her things. Would she have enough time to put on her headscarf?

"Lady! Whatswrongwithyou?" A man stared at her in her towel. She returned his glare. He had some nerve coming into the female lavatory.

"We all have to be on level forty in six minutes! Are you registering this? FIVE MINUTES."

"You said six!"

"You're making it five, woman." he snarled, "Come on, let's go!"

"My clothes-" Effie protested. He seized her by the upper arm, making her whole form fly across the tiles. Effies's arms had been just long enough to grab her jumpsuit on the way out the door.

"Blast doors will seal in four minutes." the monotone warned.

There were just crowds and crowds shuffling toward the staircase. She understood the man's panic now. They were on Level 31 - as she read off the wall. And now they had _four_ minutes to navigate down to the basement. There was so much pressure amongst the crowd she found herself in. It was almost as if she could feel it.

Effie's first real panic came in when she saw a woman who had a child swung over her hip. She could see how she struggled to keep her balance when the earth shook for the first time that night. The ground beneath them grumbled, like a vexed beast. The metal staircase creaked; the concrete came down in a dust cloud and then the child started to cry.

Effie blinked. That didn't sound much like a drill. And that's when she thought it - fireworks. The lights went out and flinched back in fear, casting lights on the heads of the paranoid crowd. President Snow's fireworks.

x

If there was one advantage to being a drunk, it would be that you would always be far away everyone else. Society was so ashamed of you and your existence that they always hid you away from plain sight - like an overdue bill. In the case of District Thirteen, this was no different.

Plutarch had nicknamed them his 'drying up lessons'; his phycologist called them his 'therapy'; but Haymitch Abernathy called them his permanent seclusion away from humanity. Haymitch was way, way down in the hole they called a district.

So far down, that when the alarm sounded, Haymitch strolled down only one level to the bunker and started helping soldiers with food and blankets. The crowds rushed in - women, children. All looking confused and tired. Haymitch was relieved when Katniss rushed in, late as usual, clinging to her sister who was clinging to a - cat?

The ex-mentor was very relieved to see the Everdeen girls, but he didn't show it. Instead, he slurred his usual 'sweetheart' tone: "Katniss... Seems you're still kicking about."

"I'm fine." she snapped. He shook his head. She hated it when people did that - take an interest in her well-being. She softened, eyeing him apologetically.

"Your mother already took you both a pack." he started, "She was waiting in the doorway last I saw."

"Thank you." Prim nodded. Haymitch eyed the hairball in her arms with a question mark. Katniss's just shoot her head. As the sisters walked off, he could head the Katniss hissing to the feline: "I should have cooked you."

Haymitch was so used to spending his days doing nothing, that this was an almost welcome change. The stiff Thirteen soldiers were not entirely happy by his presence, but Haymitch hung about just for the sake of seeing their annoyed faces. It was much better than seeing the false sympathy that the doctors and nurses of the mental ward gave him.

With the doors sealed he he did not go find himself a bed right away. Haymitch knew there were families that needed sleep more than him - even though he doubted that anyone would sleep at all with the bombing going on like it was. He had already concluded that he would not sleep that night anyway. These Capitol missiles caused enough trauma to eat a few nights of his sleep. Not that he slept anyway.

"God, I need a drink." Haymitch mumbled to himself. He really did need one. Even the people who weren't alcoholics would wanted a glass of something in a disaster like this.

 _BOOM_ , the earth shook. Some crushed concrete dust fell onto his head. The cracks were getting bigger. The screams of children followed and he gulped. It really was a shame that there was no alcohol in District Thirteen.

At first, he thought his boney little physiologist came up it - another bullshit 'therapy' method that the man came up with.

"No drink in the district, Mr Abernathy. It is _recreational_."

No, he was not deceived. Haymitch thought the man did it to stop his lust for drink. Nope, bastard was right. He had checked. There just simply was no alcohol in the sinkhole. No casket of cider, no odd bottle of scotch lying around somewhere. No surgical spirits in the medical ward… Nothing even in Coin's private storeroom.

"There is water." the Doctor had told him. "That's decently good for your health, Mr Abernathy."

That remark sparked a rage in him that he couldn't quiet contain. The chair he had broken had cost him another hour of therapy each day, but with a different phycologist, of course. Bunch of sadists, he thought. Everyone down here was afraid of two things: The Capitol and emotionally unstable grievers - which made up the entire rebel population. He didn't know if the situation was humours or tragic, because everyone was grieving something in District Thirteen. Everyone feared everything.

It made him think he was Johanna when his sober mind came up with things like that. Haymitch was never aware of how much he liked to put words in other people's mouths - especially rebellious thoughts like that.

That was the very strangest thing about the sinkhole: the ability to freely discuss what he liked, with whoever he liked, whenever he liked.

When Coin and Plutarch first sat him down in the board meeting when they first arrived, he wanted to hush them - stop them from speaking so loud. Then, he realised, there was no Snow in District Thirteen. Here, people openly could express their anger. In fact, it was encouraged.

He remembered when Coin first proposed the propos - he had laughed. Out loud. The very pleasure of openly, freely speaking about the system which ruined his life… it was a luxury.

The thing he liked most about District thirteen was drive between all the citizens. All people down in Thirteen had one goal: working to get the Mockingjay to cause havoc to Snow's regime. And yes, it was stressful. Coin never stopped reminding Haymitch of how important his job will be… once he got sober.

That was where the good list ended. No booze mixed in with the grief of a lost District Twelve, and the occasional panic about Peeta's whereabouts made him miserable.

Especially in the bunker - the very bottom of the sinkhole. _The closest to hell_ , he though darkly.

Snow's bombs were not pleasurable in any way. Perhaps it was his sober brain talking again, but the bombs were getting louder. ' _If you kick a dog; it will bite'_ , his mother always said. It was a pity this one was a Rottweiler.

Eventually - ultimately - _finally_ , the bombs came to a stop. He settled down in the furthest corner of the bunker, where there were no families around. This suited him fine. The very last thing he'd want to think of was the children trapped in the war. No, where he sat there was hardly anyone with a partner. Only loners like himself lay curled on their sides, corrupted in their own thoughts.

One person stood out to him in particular. A woman sat with her knees tucked under her chin,against the wall of the room. Towering concrete pillars enclosed her shoulders, giving the impression of a caged animal. Besides for looking outrightly miserable, she looked cold.

He creeped across the room, pretending to be a soldier one last time that evening.

"Here."

Coming up from what he recognised as sobs, the woman took the blanket he offered. "Thank you." she breathed.

He walked away, sparing her the embarrassment of being vulnerable in front of a stranger. He had almost sat down again until the woman called him back.

"Haymitch?"

He did not recognise the face, and most certainly not the hair, but the accent was so unique and obvious to him that he couldn't help but sound flabbergasted.

" _Effie_? Is that you?"

A now slightly more recognisable face peered up at him. She giggled in a way that was supposed to be like her usual banter, but came out as something completely different.

"What are you doing here?"

More humourless giggles: "I didn't want anyone seeing me like this."

He could most certainly see why. When he looked at this woman, it was hardly the flamboyant Effie Trinket from the Capitol he knew. He heard that she had been forced to dress duller since she came to District Thirteen, but _this_ …

Not only was the fabric colourless, but her face was too, and so were her eyes. The usual energetic blue was a solemn grey that reminded him of Coin. Effie's hair was stringy. Although it curled past her bare shoulders, it did so in a way that even he could tell was not at all fashionable in the Capitol. But what surprised him the most was the colour of her hair. He always imagined she'd have some or other shade of blonde under the sheep wool she wore. No, her stringy curls were black. _Pitch black_. It contrasted her face to make her look sickly. Ghostly.

"You don't look okay." he mumbled, not even trying to hide his concern, for this time it was certainly real.

"Ah, well. We did have to leave in a hurry, see." she said politely. She even made an attempt to sit up straight and push back her shoulders. "I couldn't get dressed properly."

Effie straightened out the blanket Haymitch had given her, looking into the distance. With all her Capitol manners, she flicked some tears out her eyes and dried the fingertips on the blanket. He had seen her do the exact same thing in a different setting: some Hunger Games dinner where she cried after one of Caesar Flickerman's speeches and cleaned her hands onto a serviette on her lap.

"I'm fine." she declared, trying to convince Haymitch as much as herself.

"I'd hate to be the one to break it to you, but it doesn't seem like it, princess."

Even underneath the layer of hopeless misery, she managed the glare at him. He grinned.

"Well, I like what you're done to your hair." Haymitch lied, "It looks-" he struggled for words, "Well, it gives an impression."

Effie mood dropped. She forgot she had her hair out. Her _real_ hair. How she hated her natural hair. Not only was it dark, but _course;_ and bushy. She sighed, trying to get it out her face.

"But the good kind. Like when you wore that moth dress. No- _butterfly_ dress." he covered.

He wandered to himself why he even tried. This was a hopeless conversation. He could tell she wanted to be left alone.

A sad smile was slapped off her face when another bomb dropped. This one was unexpected. It was worse than the first round because of the position that they were sitting in against the wall. Haymitch felt the actual vibrations of the ground it shake through him. He jumped up in distress. A hare caught in headlights. His first instinct was to move as far away from the wall as possible. To the centre of the room - perhaps close of one of those enforced steel pillars. He wanted to find Katniss again and check on her. In fact, he was busy doing so when he remembered Effie.

Her eyes were also round and alarmed, but she didn't budge. A second bomb hit the earth and shook. Opening and closing her eyes, Effie twitched, completely petrified.

"Come on. Lets get away from the wall." he told her, holding out a hand. She didn't budge.

"Sweetheart, it's better in the middle."

"There are people in the middle." she said back. "People can't-" she twice violently "-see me like this."

Haymitch was sparked with annoyance. "Come on, Effie." he grumbled, "You look... fine. We can get a bed." he smirked, trying a different approach of convincing her, full of innuendo. She didn't even hear him.

Haymitch had never been an affectionate man. Even before his Hunger Games the only real touch he allowed was from his mother, and later girlfriend. But it would take someone a lot harder than him so not comfort this creature. He sat sank down next to Effie, and then gently, as if petting a dangerous creature, started tapping her shoulder.

Then, quiet comically, she planted herself against his chest. Silent sobs shook against him. Haymitch was at a loss.

With each passing bomb, the bunker grew more silent and Effie more emotional. The ground roared so hard that he could see his shoelaces bounce up and down. Haymitch couldn't help but think dark thoughts. The cracks in the ceiling was defiantly growing - something no longer part of his imagination. He could not help but wonder if the roof going to cave in or not, and where it was going to go first.

Thankfully, the bombs stopped for a second time - and what would be the last time that night. Haymitch braced himself for more. One thing he leant about the capitol was that their evil never stopped. When he was sixteen he thought he was done with the Hunger Games. No, he was a mentor for countless years after that. The evil never stopped. It came back in the Quarter Quell, Chaff's death and now the bombs. It made him aggressive and angry and the world - a feeling stronger felt without the numbing effects of booze. He sat upright, biting down on his teeth, ready for more cracks to appear.

For all he knew, it could have been hours that they sat in the corner of the bunker. Effie had not yet quit her silent crying in Haymitch's lap. He had not the slightest idea what the reason was for all of her child-like sobbing. Some of it was defiantly the bombing, but there was more of that. He knew that her mind she was no where near his arms or District Thirteen.

At the end of the second bombing he was completely annoyed by her crying. With no noise to distract him, her touch grew uncomfortable. He kept on having to remind him that it was Effie Trinket. It was strange thinking of her as an actual human rather than a doll. He awkwardly removed his hand from her backside.

She must have picked up on his discomfort, because she sat up straight, looking lost.

"You know," she spoke finally. "I did this. _We_ did this. It was me."

"What are you on about?" he slurred, not in the mood for other people, never mind their problems.

"The Capitol. The Capitol is dropping those bombs. I am from the Capitol." Effie said, looking to him for assurance. "My people are doing this." she elaborated.

He considered her. His first impulse was to be honest arsehole self and agree. But this was a distressed woman. Even Effie, without the makeup and the wigs and the lashes and _the Capitol_ , was still a woman. Even if at the moment she seemed more like a frightened child. This situation required some tact. He shuddered at the word, and grimaced when he remembered Doctor Morgan using the same term.

"Well, you're here getting bombed with the rest of us."

"Actually, it's not the Capitol at all. It's Snow." he added after a while said, and realised after he spoke how true his words where. "The people in the Capitol are not doing anything. It's all _Snow_."

"Then why do these people say 'The Capitol's bombing us?'." she said calmly, "You should see the way they look at me when I speak. They hate me because I'm from the Capitol."

That was true, he had to admit. Plutarch had come down to visit him once. Coming with news about how the Effie-the-Capitol-darling wasn't adjusting to life in Thirteen. He said that the people were ignoring her, and that she'd eat alone in the mess hall if it wasn't for Katniss and Prim. Yes, he could imagine the rebels hating her. There certainly was a lot to hate about Capitol folk, and he wasn't exactly _that_ good at lying.

"I can't help that I'm from the Capitol, you know." Effie said, her voice breaking slightly.

"I never said-"

"Then why do you rebels hate people from the Capitol?" she enquired, snappy all of a sudden.

"We hate Snow and Snow's system. You people have to stop taking everything so personally."

"Coin wants to attack the Capitol. That might mean Snow, but it also means the people of the Capitol." He had never heard speak with such urgency. "And this _war_." she sneered, "I have _people_ in the Capitol. Friends, family. Now that I am on the side of the rebellion, I am declaring war on my own city?"

"It's not your city anymore, sweet-"

"I have sisters!" she hollered, eyes wild on his.

He stared at her. She had interrupted him. What happened to her usual _manners?_ Even the word _manners_ was pronounced in his head with her accent. She was not being her usual well-spoken self.

"I have three sisters. Janix, Nao, Katoo… and Effie." she said softly.

"I am the youngest. My mother only wanted three children. I was welcome but… Effie, always a bit late. Always a bit duller that rest." Effie mumbled, a contrast to her usual optimism.

"Janix got married at twenty two, and Nao and twenty six, and Katoo at twenty seven. And Effie - ah, a little late. Not yet, but _soon,_ you know."

Haymitch frowned. It sounded like she was quoting someone.

"Janix is an architect. Nao - a proud interior designer on Prime Street and Katoo… let us not even start. She outshines the rest of us with her businesswoman job. High up on the ladder working with District Seven.

"But Effie- oh no. Struggling with modelling, then struggling with her studying. Oh and great… She is made escort by some miracle; except that she works with _District Twelve_. And then at thirty-five she is still unmarried and still disappointing her parents and still being out-shined by three perfect sisters with their husbands and their careers and their children-"

She stopped, tears welling up in her eyes. She had never really shared this stress. No one in the Capitol would really want to listen. Not even her close friends. It was not in Capitol culture to complain about your misfortune. So when Effie glanced at Haymitch, who was from Distrct Twelve, she expected to see some form of sympathy. Nope, he looked bored with her sob story.

"What? We all have problems." Haymitch slurred. "You're not special. Some people have real problems, sweetheart."

It was silent for a while. Haymitch watched how hopeless, frail Effie transformed into something very different.

"Oh -brilliant!" she snapped, full of zest. "Just absolutely-" she swallowed back a few insults. Throughout her whole life she was trained to hold back negative emotions. Anger, being that main one. " _No one likes a trumpeter._ " she could hear her mother saying. Effie had been good at hiding anger. Almost too good. So when she started shouting at Haymitch she felt surprised and slightly scared that she even had that side to her. Right now, she was so mad - so angry she felt like she could…

But Haymitch barely paying attention to her. He was playing with the sleeves of his jumpsuit. Effie swallowed a lump of emotion and got up. He eyed her with boredom.

"What are you waiting for? Leave, princess." Haymitch prompted.

She always thought his rudeness originated from being drunk all the time. No - here he was. Sober as a nun and still _princessing_ her.

"I will not." she grunted, folding her arms over each other.

Haymitch was almost smiling. "Neither will I." He leaned back against the wall, hands behind his head. "So, if you would like to continue your ranting-"

"I am not ranting!"

He raised his eyebrows. "Well, you should go look that up in the dictionary. Relax a little, princess. Tell me why you're angry."

She didn't need an invitation. "You!"

"Me?"

"You are the one making me pretty-" she stopped, confined by two years of finishing school.

He chuckled, "Furious? You don't say?" She felt like punching him. "What else is making little Effie the escort angry?"

She closed her eyes. Haymitch smirked. She was trying to calm down, and succeeding. When spoke again, she was back to her normal, Capitol politeness.

"Well, besides for your appalling attitude towards me, Haymitch, it would be Coin." she said.

"Coin?" he repeated, amused.

"President Alma Coin." Effie said, trying hard not to pronounce her words with such force. "I don't support her."

He glared at her - a disbelieving glare. He had given the same look to her countless times.

"You don't support the rebellion?" Haymitch accused, horrified. Within seconds, the nature of the conversation turned into something sour.

"Coin does not see people. She wants to overthrow the president and she doesn't care who she hurts along the way. What about the innocent citizens of the Capitol? What about my friends? Coin sees progress and numbers; not people and their stories."

It was quiet for a long time. "Yes, your family." Haymitch said darkly.

An old hate arose in his stomach. The Capitol, so out of touch with reality. He knew Effie was distanced for everyone in Thirteen, but didn't think she was still so traditionally _Capitol_. He always suspected she was a bit brainwashed. All people in the Capitol were, but Plutarch had explained that Effie had changed, and that she was 100% with the rebellion. Haymitch's fists curled up into balls, he was wrong. This was still the Capitol doll that he spent so many years with helping kill dead tributes.

"Today Snow is bombing us, tomorrow Coin is bombing the Capitol. I do not know if I want to be on the side that fights against my people - my family. Even if it was not for that, Coin sounds a lot like Snow to me. If you listen carefully, she wants to destroy everything that doesn't go her way."

Haymitch could not believe his ears.

"Oh, I see." he said, deliberately cheerful, "You want to go back to the Capitol to live your old lifestyle."

"I never said-"

"And you still want to continue being at escort for the Hunger Games, living in luxury with _your family._ "

"No, Naymitch-"

"Why did I ever think you would be on the same side as us?"

"I am." Effie tried to assure him. "Why is everyone always questioning my loyalty? Do you trust me?"

His cool grey eyes sank to the ground.

"You never trusted me. Even during the Games, when we were on a _team_." she sounded hurt. "You told everyone but me about-"

"Well, wasn't that a good decision of mine?" he was the one shouting now, "Imagine you knew, and told some Capitol turd about Thirteen?"

"You know that I would never betrayed the trust of Katniss and Peeta like that!"

"That's the thing, sweetheart, I don't know that. You sound like you love Snow very much tonight."

She paused, waiting for regret to show in his eyes, but it never came. Had he never trusted her at all? Even now, when she was making propos beside him, in the same jumpsuit as he was wearing, being bombed by the same enemy as him? His jaw hardened, his eyes fire.

She bit back tears. She was not going to do that again. Not in front of him. She trudged away, humiliated, and found another wall to sit against. She thought that she had one friend left in the world, but it seemed that was not the case. It was going to be a long night.

x


	2. Chapters 2 - 4

**Chapter Two**

Despite Coin's announcement of no casualties, it seemed that after the bombing, everyone was desperate check on people they knew. Everywhere Effie went there were people asking after family members, couples hugging. Even the stiff soldiers where nodding and smiling to people they knew.

Effie, not really having anyone in District Thirteen, walked straight up to Level 31 and made herself look presentable. It was a terrible thing, she came to knew, not having anyone who was dead-set on worrying about you. Especially your looks. In the Capitol, there was always people curious about what she was wearing. Her hairdresser was always coming up with new wig designs for her.

but down amongst the population of Panem,

After that, she found herself in the cafeteria on level 33. They were serving a late breakfast.

As Effie queued up, she couldn't help but think again of the revolting quality of the food. She never quiet realised what food normal people eat.

She was remind of how hard adjustment to Thirteen had been. Effie had never been in a place which had so many rules. Specific shower times, the horrible grey uniform, restricted areas and food rations. Every citizen got two meals a day - only two! The food was measured. The ladies who stood behind the tables of the buffet measured out each portion they served. Each person got exactly one cup of white carbohydrate-like mush, and a half a cup of something else. In that morning's case, it was beans. Effie shuddered.

"Thank you." she said to the lady, and grabbed a spoon - only a spoon. District Thirteen had no forks or knives. They weren't there because they weren't needed. None of the food had enough texture to be cut.

"Why don't you come sit here, dear." the buffet woman offered. "We always see you sitting alone."

Effie was take back. She hardly knew these people, and they were not only being friendly, but also polite.

"Oh - Yes I will."

The one woman smiled. She was old, and had parchment skin of a warm brown colour. She made Effie sit on a chair in the back.

"My name is Daisy Missick." she introduced.

"Effie Trinket." Effie parroted.

"You come from the Capitol?" the woman asked. She seemed surprised, but not in the usual condescending way. Effie bowed her head in shame regardless.

"Of course so comes from 'de rotting Capitol, Dais. Can't you hear it in her voice?" A woman from the back said. "You need to go upstairs so Domic they can check you hearing."

Daisy shook her head. "Don't mind her. She's just a bit down these days."

"I'm not down!" the woman argued. Effie caught a glimpse of her hunchback body. "When 'dey told me I was going to be a cook down here, I thought I'd at least do a decent bit of cookin', you know. Nope, just work 'dem machines and buffeting!"

Effie stared at the beige tiles of the room and the pots sitting the corner. "You don't cook in here?"

"Of course we don't cook!"

Effie had intended the question for Daisy, but the mad woman replied. She startled Effie by popping her head around the corner.

"Chin up, buttercup!" the woman said, "I'll show you how the machine works, and give you some more." The woman had a wicked grin on her face. She gestured to the pot of grey-green beans.

"Oh, no. I am quiet alright." Effie cover quickly. Daisy looked at her understandably. The beans made Effie nauseous just by smelling them.

"It's actually no machine-" the crazy-looking woman started.

"It's a printer." Daisy explained.

"And it prints in 3D. Three dimensions." She said in wonder, "We get instructions from the upstairs on what the food needs, and 'den print it here."

Effie spotted a very industrial looking lump of metal in the corner. A conveyer belt came from it centre. She wondered if they had similar machines in the Capitol. She had never actually been inside a kitchen, now that she thought of it. Cooking was considered primitive in the Capitol, and as a result, no one cooked. Everything was prepared by Avoxes and came from the districts, that was all she knew.

"If it is a printer, can't you print whatever you like?" Effie asked. "Make the food better?"

"We are under strict instructions from above." Daisy said, "They tell us what to do."

So many rules, Effie thought.

"Also limited resources." the woman said, "The little food comin' from 'dem farms are precious. And that's how everybody get 'em nutrients by the printer. No sunlight, you get all sorts 'o disease. If it wasn't for 'em old stinky beans, you would die, buttercup."

Effie didn't like the woman's tone. It remained her too much of Haymitch, and of her and Haymitch's argument the previous night.

"You were Twelve's escort." the woman said, "I remember you although its hard without all de feathers and bejewlery and stuff. 'May 'dem odds be ever in your favour.'."

Effie shuddered. "Do you come from Twelve yourself?"

"Not a compete airhead, I see. Yeah, I came from 'de Seam."

Effie decided to ignore the insult, "Like Katniss."

"Yeah." the woman moaned, " 'Dem old Everdeens. Shame." she shook her head, looking lost in memory. " 'Dey call me Sae, Miss Trinket."

"Greasy Sae." Daisy added.

"Greasy Sae." the woman repeated, her lisp catching each 's' in her name.

"You knew Katniss, didn't you?" Effie softened.

"I know her, yeah. She's not dead, so why you de past tense?" Greasy Sae may have looked slow, but her intelligence was as sharp as a needle. "I sold soup in 'de Hob back in Twelve. My whole life I fed the starving men, woman and children in 'de Seam. You have to what you have to do to make life easier for 'dem poor souls around you, regardless of who ye' are."

Effie looked for something to say back, but couldn't find it. She could not relate to what Greasy Sae said in anyway.

"I've always been a cook." Daisy said, "I grew up in Thirteen, but my parents originally come Seven."

"Have you been down here your whole life?" Effie asked, bewildered. She didn't get to find out that morning, though. A familiar face walked into the kitchen.

"Effie! Where have you been? I have been looking since eight o'clock!"

It was Cressida. She had come to fetch Effie for the post-bombing propo.

"Coin wants it done before dinner. Beetee wants it earlier because he needs to do something with the broadcasting and coding."

"Where is Katniss?"

"Upstairs, in the medical ward waiting for you."

"Good. Thank you." Effie said.

"Don't go hiding again." Cressida told her, "Someone said you're upset."

"Upset? Who?" Effie enquired.

"Um - Haymitch I think."

Effie managed to scoff, "I am not."

"Right." Cressida agreed, "See you in the council room in half an hour."

Effie had to climb the stairs as the elevators were still out. All the levels above 20 had been destroyed. Apparently they were _sealed_ underground now. This made Effie wonder how they were going to get out to shoot the propo.

She felt a sting of anger at Haymitch for telling the team that she was upset. Now that she thought about it, she was't really. After the few slow stares from empathetic Daisy, Effie felt re-energised. She didn't skip up the stairs as she usually did, but she did not trudge either. She had taken what Greasy Sae said to heart. She had to help where she could, make life a little easier for the people around her. She had to get Katniss ready, and fast.

She found Prim first in the hospital, looking rather professional with a clipboard. "Darling Primrose! Where is your sister?"

Prim gestured to a room in the back. Katniss was talking to a man who had a bandage around his head. Of course. No casualties yes, but injuries defiantly.

"Katniss! Hello! Yes! We have to be in the board room in twenty minutes for a propo."

"I know."

"Oh Cressida told you, good. Up to my compartment now. We have lots to do in little time."

"I am not putting on make up, Effie. Remember, I'm not supposed to look thirty-five."

Effie's gazed narrowed at that. The girl's attitude had always been something.

"Very well. You still have to let me do your hair. And costume. There is too little time to get Octavia and there rest of the prep team involved."

Effie paused, hands on her hips. "I have to do my job, Katniss."

The girl sighed at that, but didn't argue. She knew Effie was right.

A quick fifteen minutes later they were up in the meeting room. Katniss had refused to put on Cinna's Mockingjay outfit but in the end it was for the best. They would not have had time to have done that anyway. Effie carefully platted Katniss's signature side side-plat in, and dabbed on the little foundation she had. It was not how Cinna would have done it, but Effie thought she looked dashing either way.

"Good morning, everyone." she said cheerfully.

"Afternoon." Beetee corrected.

"I'm not sure about the good, either." Gale said, resting his crossbow over his shoulder. He was looking a particularly nasty crack in the wall.

"Put that thing down, Gale." Haymitch said. "You'll kill someone."

Effie eyed Haymitch cooly. He looked worse than he did last night. His beanie still gave him the impression of a homeless person, which was only reinforced by his recent inability to shave.

He was playing with a pen and sitting at his chair at the table, eyes boring around the table, but looking everywhere but at her. He was going to be ignoring her for a long time, she could tell.

"No time to waste. It's going to be a hike up." Cressida said.

"And she means hike." Beetee said. "I'm not sure how you'll get out precisely. The top mile is all rubble, including most of the exits. At least that is what I was informed."

"Well make it eventually." Boggs said, looking formal in his soldier posture. "There is bound to be an exit. The engineers have set up various scout groups in all the higher levels."

It was a hike indeed. Concrete blocks scattered the levels. Effie always got the feeling that District Thirteen was a cave, but no more than that afternoon. It was cold and dark. Whenever they came across an open fire, Boggs had to stop an inform someone downstairs, otherwise there was the risk of something blowing up, and more levels becoming rubble.

"So Katniss, it's 'Thirteen is alive and well and so am I'." Effie prompted, but was blissfully ignored.

"Never one to waste it in rehearsal, I know."

She heard a few sniggers from the cameramen behind her. No surprise to anyone there. The girl never did respond to anything formal.

When they reached daylight, the group were all equally horrified. Plutarch said that there was a forest about District Thirteen. There wasn't even a sign of anything resembling life. The only thing visible was the rubble of concrete and metal. The sky sulked in grey, and everything had the stench of - flowers?

In the centre of the little hole they stood in, lay scattered roses - white roses - looking very much out of place. There were hundreds.

"Why would they drop these?" Gale asked.

Effie knew immediately. White roses had always been Snow. Even before she met him personally, she always saw the president in the petals of the flower.

Despite Cressida's best efforts, Katniss couldn't continue. It must have been too much for the girl. The shock of seeing the woods of Thirteen destroyed by the bombs, the smoke and the smell of roses. She started mumbling things along the lines of "Peeta - I can't do this -"

Effie softened when Haymitch ran down to the girl, trying to sympathise by hugging. She was shaking, having one of those panic attacks Plutarch said she had since the Quarter Quell. It was upsetting to see. Eventually, Katniss ran back down the hole they came from.

"You'd better go after her." Cressida instructed Haymitch.

He sighed deeply, meeting Effie's gaze somewhere along the way. For a moment she thought he was accepting her sympathies for him, but then his jaw hardened again, so she looked away. He had looked angry. She felt empty.

x

Serval sunrises and sunsets passed before Haymitch sunk down from exhaustion. Between Plutarch, Coin, Beetee and himself, they formulated a plan. A good plan, to get Peeta and the others out of the Tributes Centre.

Beetee's big head had cooked up a complex system go events that he had trouble following. Things about a setting a bomb off somewhere in the Districts, then sending out a propo, then getting some secret Capitol rebels to lead Peacekeepers off somewhere else… But he supposed the whole point was to make it difficult so that Snow and his officials could not follow what was happening either.

He scratched up Katniss from where she was hiding in the laundry, and got her up to Coin's control panel. They had a narrow time frame, and he was so confident that it would work.

Finnick started talking about President Snow. Things Haymitch himself didn't know about the man. The more Finnick spoke, the more excited he got. Boggs and the rest of the team were busy flying in Capitol airspace. He was crossing his fingers and mumbling things to keep the good luck going. It didn't last. Beetee's transmission with the soldiers got lost in a blinding flash on the screen.

His fingers twitched nervously at the scene playing out in front of him.

"We've lost contact." Beetee repeated.

President Coin muttered a few instructions, and things became even more of a frenzy. Then a lightbulbs went off over Katniss's head. She suggested that they broadcast her.

And before Haymitch knew it, the devil himself appeared on the screen. Large and in high definition, Snow's smile filled the room with ice. It was the first time since the bombing when Haymitch felt genuinely scared, overwhelmed by seeing the man who had taken so much from him. He had never seen Snow's evil, joyless face so up close.

He thought of his mother and his brother; the 46 dead tributes he had mentored; the ash that was now District Twelve; and the thousands of people he knew in the hob. In the Seam. And his girl.

He felt like disappearing to get some booze, but kept his composure, for the girl's sake.

She was all calm and brave as she always was. She answered his tricky questions without pause, and reciprocate equally paradoxic ones back at Snow. She looked determined, forceful with her words, but patient enough that Snow payed attention to her. Not of the first time, and certainly not for the last, he was in awe with her talent.

For a few brief moments, Beetee got through and spoke to Boggs. It would have been such a good plan, until Snow grinned into the camera at Katniss. "Don't you think I know your friends are in the Tribute Centre?"

The screens froze in white. Gale and the rest disappeared.

She was frantic. Jumpy, demanding answers from everyone. "We have to get hold of them. We have to tell them he knows."

"There's no signal." Came from Plutarch. Beetee, who was mumbling into the microphone nodded. Just as brave as the Mockingjay had been a few moments before, just as frantic as she was now.

"No, Haymitch. He knew the whole time." she whined, "He was taunting us. We have to get them out. They're in there."

"No, we don't know that."

"Did I lose them both tonight?" She asked, desperate and overcome with fear. " _Did I lose them both tonight? Did I lose them both tonight?_ " She fell into Haymitch's arms, shaking. He was reminded of Effie during the bombing.

x

"Here we are again." Effie yodelled, entering the board room again, "And no Katniss." she repeated, pouting her lips in a pose. "Pity."

Prim looked disappointed, but not surprised. She walked the length of the room, making sure that her sister wasn't lying hidden away somewhere.

"Is that Haymitch?" the teen asked doubtfully.

She speed walked closer. Lying under the table with his hands to his chest was a man. His beanie was pulled over his nose. Effie thought he looked rather like the old mentor of District Twelve who was suffering a hangover.

"Haymitch?" Effie asked softly.

He groaned. It didn't matter now hard Effie tried, she always sounded like she was nagging.

"Wake up, Haymitch."

"What?" he groaned, feeling fingers on his head. He repeated another friendlier "What?" to Prim when he realised it was her touch.

"Do you know where my sister is?"

"What do you think?"

"Don't be _rude_ , Haymitch. Maybe if you weren't sleeping through a crisis-"

"I wasn't sleeping Effie and you already knew that."

"It looked like-"

"But I wasn't. I was trying to clear my head from the full blown sh-"

Prim stood awkwardly in the battleground. She picked up on the bitterness between Haymitch and Effie immediately.

"Sorry." Haymitch mumbled, "I'm just…"

Prim shook it off. She didn't mind. She was quiet used to bickering when Peeta was still around. He and Katniss fought like cat and dog.

"Why are you looking for Katniss?"

"Because Boggs is looking for her. Apparently it's Coin. She wants a meeting."

Haymitch lit up. Maybe-

"There's no news." Prim extinguished his excitement, "Coin just wants to talk to her."

"Of course." he muttered, sinking back onto the ground. He felt the hardness of his shoulder blades, and the thickness of his skull. Why did everything in Thirteen have to be made of concrete or metal?

"Well, we should check her compartment."

"But she won't be there." Prim said, "Maybe the dining hall?"

"That is where Coin went off to check. She is most probably over there, if she hasn't crawled into an unknown shaft of this cave." Effie elaborated.

Prim nodded. "I am going back to the hospital. Feel free to join me Effie - and you Haymitch."

In the end, it was the disproving stare from both woman that got him up. Also, he had the tiniest smidget of hope that there might be alcohol in the hospital. He just had to check.

"Soldiers, are you off duty right now?" And official-looking person asked the three of them.

"I am a nurse, sir."

"Off duty?"

"Correct. I have a shift now on Level 27. Lots of injured citizens after the bombing." Prim excused herself.

"Right. Good luck in there." the officer said, and Prim walked off. "And you, soldier?"

Haymitch looked at Effie expectantly. "Well I don't know about _soldier_." She rolled her eyes. "But we are off-duty."

"What are your duties?"

"Mockingjay One." Haymitch answered automatically. He could see some of the officials shuffle in surprise. "We work for Coin personally, so whatever you want us to do-"

"You have been instructed to help engineers with the recovery of the upper levels as a result of Thursday's attack. Please abandon your schedules." the officer commanded formally.

Haymitch took one look at the staircase they would have to take. All those levels without an elevator…

"Now you see, _soldier_." Haymitch started, "I don't think you understand. Mockingjay One works directly with Katniss Everdeen and Finnick Odair-"

"Here is a direct instruction from President Coin's office to take all off-duty citizens to the nineteenth floor."

Their eyes followed wall that went up to the now blackened Level 1. Eventually he found the wall reading '19'. It was so high that he had to squint to see it though foggy air. There was no way Haymitch was going to walk up those stairs. He opened his mouth to retaliate-

" _Officer_." Effie beamed. Haymitch wondered how she got her voice to go all husky like that."There must be some kind of mistake. We are not meant to do that kind of _physical work."_

Then Haymitch understood what she was trying to do. She batted her eyelashes, hands on her hips. This only confused the officer further.

 _"_ And even if we were supposed to some sort other duties, we aren't trained for it. You see, Level 30 needs us on standby."

The soldiers at the back whispered amongst each other. Everyone knew that Level 30 was where Coin's control centre was.

"Just in case Commander Heavensbee needs us." she added. He knew she did that just to show off their importance. Haymitch rolled his eyes. But he had to give it to her, she was a convincing flirt.

"Sorry soldiers, no excuses. Officer Jenkinson will show you to your work. She will take you to Level 21." the soldier said.

To say Haymitch looked overenthusiastic would be a mistake.

"Why did you do that?" He growled.

"I know you have very little respect for me at the moment, Haymitch, but do try to shut it out. This might be for the better." Effie said quickly. "For you and for me. Imagine you lying in that room and rotting?"

He rolled his eyes once more, looking up at the first staircase.

"You could have tried a different strategy. Being pretty only works in the Capitol!"

"Being arrogant does not work either. Get your chin up, buttercup." she fired back, copying Greasy Sae from the previous morning. "This could be entertaining."

He narrowed his eyes, thighs already burning from the stairs and his head still throbbing from lack of booze, worsened by the sound of her voice.

Trust Effie to bring optimism to the table, he thought bitterly. She paraded forward, not even blinking in his direction, and he followed grimly.

The engineers needed more than just a little bit of help. Visual clues of the of the bombing were everywhere. Cracked tiles and scattered boxes stretched as far as they could see in the corridors.

They reached a level where engineers and soldiers stood dark passages. Haymitch could make out plans on a screen, explaining the layout of the sinkhole, and red areas of where the bombs had eaten into the ant farm. It actually looked better than he imagined the bombs did the previous night.

Effie and Haymitch's task was to look for open fires or burst water pipes. If they found a fire, they were to put it out immediately. In the case of a pipe, it was a call to a soldier or mechanic nearby.

In the end, Haymitch ended up laughing because it was _entertaining_ , but at Effie's expense. She had insisted on carrying the fire extinguisher, and she looked ridiculous while doing it. She kept of changing her grip on it, back buckling under it's weight; while Haymitch strolled with the spotlight, pointing at where they were going.

"You okay there, princess?"

"Dazzling." She grunted, but still managed to sound cheerful somehow. He chuckled. Stubbornness did have its cost.

The corridor they moved down was residential. Plutarch was right about each citizen having standard living quarters. The compartments were cold and dark and identical. The whole experience was a lot more eerie than Haymitch would admit to. Occasionally, the pair would stumble across evidence of a bunk bed that was still unmade, or some momentos of whoever's room it was - proof of that someone once lived here - even if it was only two days ago that the bombing happened.

"Where are the people staying now?" Effie asked.

"There are extra beds in the bunker." he said, "And on Level 39."

She raised an eyebrow in question.

"That's my level. No one lives there. It's mostly storage. And cockroaches."

"Sounds pleasant." she said sarcastically, "Wait, isn't that a fire?"

Effie stared at the corner of the room. In a crack the floor there was a sure enough a small blaze. Haymitch could have put it out by stamping with his foot. It was no larger than the flame of a candle.

Effie, however, grabbed the extinguisher and rushed forward, only to struggle with the mechanism.

"Could you?" she asked after a while.

He passed her the torch and fiddled with the nozzle until it cracked open. He picked up the contraption and aimed at the flame.

"Um-" she interrupted, "Do you mind if I do it?"

"No no no." he bored, "Be my guest."

Haymitch explained the nozzle to her, and then watched her try for herself. He was astonished, looking at a sight he never thought he'd see in his life: Effie Trinket, beloved Capitol doll and escort, manhandling a heavy metal gun in a squatting position with her frilly Capitol shoes still on. She blew out the fire, looking way too pleased with herself. She exhaled, and then took the torch from him.

"What? You want me to carry it?"

She smirked, walking out the room. "You carry, I extinguish."

"Because that's what equality is." he stated, full of sarcasm, but not the kind intended to hurt.

"Exactly." she smiled, directing them down the passage. "Trot along."

She ended up putting out two more fires until they cleared the area. And due to her enthusiasm, they ended up doing three more corridors like it.

Effie was surprisingly hands-on, and took control of the situation well. He wan't sure why he was so surprised anyway. She had done it countless times as an escort. Maybe it was just the thought of her in a jumpsuit, with that ridiculous headscarf. Or just seeing her do manual labour. Effie Trinket doing manual labour, he snorted.

"This looks like Peeta's token." Effie said, holding the light onto a dresser in one of the bedrooms. Haymitch came closer.

A square metal locket on a long string. It was very similar to the one Effie had given to Peeta, except that it was silver.

"That poor boy." She smiled sadly, picking up the locket. She got it open with her nails, and the two looked at the picture of a smiling woman. Whoever the locket belonged to had a beautiful girl in their life. Haymitch thought that the girl looked like Finnick's Annie, only with blonde locks.

"Do you think he is still alive?" she asked unexpectedly.

Haymitch didn't have to wonder who 'he' was. He wanted Peeta to be alive so badly. He knew that if the boy was dead, or if something happen to him, the revolution would die. Katniss was the revolution, and Katniss was not coping without Peeta. He hoped that Peeta was okay, because without him she would go crazy - like Annie - or just lose all motivation - like him.

A darker part of him knew the truth. He had a horrible feeling in his belly. After Snow's transmission, he was so sure the man had done something to Peeta. There was no way Snow was going to go lenient after the Quarter Quell.

"No." he said, and after a while, watching her optimism fall.

Effie's big blue eyes stared down at her feet.

"I hope I'm wrong." he added.

"As do I." she said, "I think you're wrong."

She set down the locket, and they watched it for a while, their minds suck on the boy with the bread. Then Effie lead him back to the engineers.

"Anything interesting, ma'am?"

Effie had convinced the young engineers to call her 'madam' instead of the anonymous 'soldier'. She originally suggested 'Mrs', but changed her mind to 'ma'am.'. The trainee engineers' eyes widened. They had been taught the only person to be called ma'am was President Coin. Effie enjoyed giving herself the same kind of authority, and the trainees did too. They were still young, like the sass Effie had to offer.

"This whole corridor's clear, boys. Hardly any cracks too." she said, smiling.

"That's good, ma'am, because this is my level." the one boy said. "My mom's going to be happy."

"Keep quiet, Geras." the one boy said under his breath, "We have to be professional."

When the one boy called Haymitch 'sir' he shot them a poisonous look. Effie and everyone else in District Thirteen might like titles, but he didn't. He was going to be Haymitch and not 'sir' or 'soldier' or 'Mr Abernathy' or anything else.

"I think we'll leave now." Haymitch interrupted their conversation. Effie would probably have him carry the fire extinguisher until the entire Thirteen was checked for cracks and fires.

"Just as well, sir- _soldier_. I just got a transmission from Commander Boggs."

"What did he say?" Haymitch demanded. If it was news about the rescue mission…

"Well he was asking for you two to go Level 30. Apparently-"

And then he started running. Effie and the engineers stared bleakly after him.

"Never mind, boys. His majesty has got a more important job that checking for cracks. I'd better follow him."

"You do that, ma'am."

Haymitch made it down sixteen levels and stood at the hospital entrance.

"News?" he demanded, almost tripping over Boggs with his speed.

"They're back." Boggs said. "You should fetch-"

"Katniss." he breathed, running again. He ran faster than his thoughts. Remembering only talking a bit, and then running again through the doors of the medical ward with the girl and Finnick.

And then there, in the centre of the hall, cursing away doctors, was petite little creature that looked like she came back from the dead.

"Johanna?"

She ripped a few IV lines out her arm and smirked at him. He never understood the phrase 'on your deathbed' properly until now. She looked terrifying, with her head clean shaven and every other body part that he could see purple with bruises.

Then there was Annie, rushing into Finnick. He watched the two embrace in a kiss, desperate and relieved with their whole hearts. He hoped that Katniss got to do the same. Haymitch patrolled the room, fishing for any hint of Peeta.

"Gale! You're okay! What. What is it?"

The soldier was quiet. "I don't get it. Every gun was back online and on us and we flew right past them. They let us go."

Every fear Haymitch had about Snow was strengthened. Something happened to Peeta. His nails curled into his palms. If the boy wasn't dead, the something happened to Peeta, he knew it.

"He's in there." Gale gestured.

She rushed past doors: "Peeta." she breathed.

Hardly believing his eyes, Haymitch saw the boy sitting upright. He looked tried and worn down. Looking even worse than Johanna - if that was possible. This time he saw a course in the flesh looking at Katniss with - hate? No, rather like someone who lost every last bit of their humanity. That is what Snow did. There was no hope in his eyes. Peeta was going to become like him. A sad excuse for oxygen, a burden to whoever he comes across.

Katniss moved closer to him, and couldn't help but feel he was intruding a very private moment. He ushered for the nurses to leave the room. Soon it has only him and the his two victors in the room. Katniss bit back a sob, reaching with her hands forward to him.

Nothing could have prepared him for what happened next. The relief he was standing on got yanked away. The boy jumped up, shoving Katniss again the wall and then tumbling down to the floor with her. He didn't have time to process what was happening. Peeta lay over her body, hands clasped to her neck. He was strangling her.

"Peeta! Get off!" he shouted, voice raising an octave. He grabbed the boy by the shoulders. It was hopeless, really, because the boy had been much more of a man for a while now. He threw Haymitch up against a table. He felt a corner collide with the back of his ribcage and winced, managing to shout a "Help!" in the process.

Boggs and a few nurses rushed in. He thought it was too late, that he had lost Katniss to his other dead victor. Dead victor - because whatever that thing was, it was not Peeta. It was not the baker's son, who helped him build a goose enclosure in the Victor's Village. It was not the boy who painted pretty pictures for the major, and it was most certainly not the boy who fell in love with Katniss.

Gale and Boggs's collective strength was enough to get Peeta out of the room. As for Katniss, there was a sea of medics for her. He waited long enough to hear her breathing again, and swarmed out the door.

He was so exhausted that his limbs ached. People for all over were rushing to where he went, and firing questions at him. He strolled out, not giving three damns about anything for the moment.

He almost forgot where he found the alcohol. On a table - in a cupboard - or did someone give it to him? Regardless, Haymitch took it and went down to his level.

He wanted to save the bottle, stretch out the good effects it would give, but he was far too emotional for that. He consumed the contents in one swig, thinking about how much he needed it. How he deserved it. He _trembled_ with pleasure.

He didn't understand why people took his booze away. Wasn't he entitled to it after suffering so much? Didn't he deserve one way to escape from it all? He sank into the pillow, thinking of what a deeply horrible world it was that he lived in, and slept for as long as he could.

 **Chapter Three**

"Pigs in a pen, we were! More imprisoned than a bunch o' Avoxes in jail. The whole of the Seam was a concentration camp. No food, no running water. Each winter 'dere was a death toll on how many people froze. More peacekeepers patrolling the place than rats. And you can trust me, sunshine, there were rats the size of dogs creeping 'round the place."

Daisy grimaced, "That is quiet enough. You're upsetting me, Sae. I can't imagine how she's handling it."

"I don't mind." Effie lied, trying to irradiate her mind of visions of rats eating starving children, "Anything to distract me from this."

"Better get used to it." Greasy Sae warned. She picked up a spoonful of the eggplant-coloured mixture they were serving for breakfast that morning, " 'Dey told me tomorrow's cabbage."

Daisy shook her head, "They didn't tell us anything, Sae. Aren't we supposed to cheer up Effie. Relieve her from the whole Katniss Everdeen stress? Let talk about something else. Why don't you tell us a story, sugar?"

"What is there to tell?" She pondered. Her mind was so clogged with Peeta and Katniss that she could hardy think clearly without having an emotional outburst. Talking about the Capitol would make her feel guilty.

"How about your old job?" Daisy asked sweetly.

The Hunger Games? Was that the only thing Daisy could think of? Well, Effie supposed her whole life had revolved around it, after all. Her entire life - since she could remember had somehow been about the Hunger Games. The betting, the costumes, the posters in her bedroom… And then later on actually having tributes, having a mentor, having stylists, having victors, having a victory tour… Effie Trinket _was_ the Hunger Games.

"I've been to Distract Seven." Effie said, looking at Daisy, thinking that might interest her. "I saw it on Katniss and Peeta's Victory Tour. But also before that. My sister does - well I suppose _did_ -" Effie said with a wink in Sae's direction, "-business over there. I went with once."

"Capitol citizens are allowed to travel to other districts?"

"No, not exactly. You have to be under strict supervision if you leave the Capitol. I travelled quiet a bit with my job as an escort, but that is organised. My sister was there on a special case. I went with specifically so she wouldn't be alone between the peacekeeper bodyguards."

"And? What did you see?" Daisy asked eagerly, "In District Seven?" she clarified.

Effie had to think hard. Her brain never really kept storage of specific districts. They all seemed the same in her mind. Cold, poor, confined. The only place she remembers standing out was Twelve, and that was because it was _her_ district.

"As an escort," she saw Greasy Sae twitch, "I never really went further than the train station and the square. It wasn't allowed. However, when I went with my sister we saw a factory."

"Oh - what was in it?"

Effie struggled to remember. "Well they were making furniture."

"The lumber, of course." Daisy smiled, "My father's father was a carpenter."

"That's right. They were crafting chairs. My sister was there to order chairs for desi-" she hesitated, "-Design Week."

"Oh _the Capitol_." Greasy Sae shoved a portion of purple sauce into someone's plate. "Sadists."

Daisy looked apologetic for her friend. Effie hardly flinched. She had grown used to the rebels' hate of the Capitol. Haymitch was not the only person who brushed her off for her Capitol origins. She could almost tolerate their distaste, however, Design Week wasn't the Hunger Games. It was a harmless Capitol celebration. No one was taking advantage of the districts during Design Week. They would simply celebrate beautiful things. In Effie's opinion, it was the same as District Eleven's full moon harvest.

"When were you in Seven with your sister?"

"I think I was… I was twenty-six." Effie hummed thoughtfully. "The 66th Games."

"Sorry. I don't know why I asked. That was years after my family came to Thirteen." Daisy looked embarrassed, but Effie thought she understood.

"I think your family was damn clever for leavin' the Districts."

"I suppose." Daisy said, "It was a big risk. My father heard rumours of Thirteen. They were going to execute him for stealing medicine from a peacekeeper. He decided leaving would be the best option."

"That's- that is horrible." Effie said, picturing the scene. Where Effie came from optimal medical care was a basic right. This man would have been killed for trying to practise her natural-born right. And then he packed up his wife and his children and his life and ventured out to find a place that he wasn't sure existed.

"And then you and your family made it across four districts boundaries?" Effie asked doubtfully.

"It was nine years after the first rebellion when my pa came here. I wasn't even born when they left District Seven." Daisy said, "I am not sure exactly, but I think I remember my pa said five boundaries. They took a route around Eight, skipping some mountains or something."

"That's right. They would have missed the military facility in District Two by doing that." Effie said, remembering the maps they had to memorise in school.

" 'Dat's what you call bravery. Straight after dem dark days too. _Genius_."

"Katniss wanted to do the same thing with Gale. Run off before her Hunger Games."

"Imagine that happened." Daisy said, bewildered, "Where would the revolution be without the Mockingjay?"

"Why is it that even when I leave the damned hospital, people still don't shut up about _the Mockingjay_?" came a voice that did not belong to their conversation.

Effie and the two old women looked up to find a hostile-looking creature in a hospital gown pick up the pot of purple sludge.

"For the love of god! Even normal people food in this place is hospital food!"

"Excuse me," Daisy stood up, "But you're not allowed to eat more than the daily portions-"

"Do you want to talk about real problems, lady? 'Cause NOBODY IN THE SINKHOLE KNOWS WHAT REAL PROBLEMS ARE!" she shrieked.

Daisy was speechless. No one from Thirteen ever had outbursts like that. Coin made sure things were organised and stable. Nothing overly creative, or overly emotional was in her proximity. This is why the lady's outburst came as shock to Daisy.

Greasy Sae, the first woman to put up a fight, just watched the woman take three good helpings of purple, smirking all the way. That was when Effie finally recognised the girl. It was Johanna Mason, only without her hair. Her usual aggressive aura seemed intensified.

"Miss Mason-" Effie tried to intervene.

"NO!" she shrieked, looking vaguely surprised to see Effie in the kitchen.

"Johanna, you are supposed to be at therapy with Doctor-"

"You are District Twelve's escort, aren't you? Haymitch's assistant." she sniggered, "Stupid capitol escort, you think you understand the FIRST THING of what it's like…"

"I don't know what you-"

"You know how much people HATE you escorts. YOU ARE THE ONES- It is PEOPLE LIKE YOU! YOU RUINED MY F-!"

"ENOUGH!" Greasy Sae interjected, suddenly behind the counter and next to Johanna. Effie had no idea how the old woman got there so fast.

"If you're gonna break the law, at least be smart about it." Greasy Sae was calm in tone, but she grasped Johanna so hard by the arm that Effie could see white knuckles.

She and Daisy watched in amazement how Sae hauled the woman into the kitchen and threw her in a chair.

"I don't care who you think you are, girl. Eat up, and do it quietly, otherwise it's Commander Gonzalez and a trip back to the hospital for you." Greasy Sae stood tall in the kitchen, wooden spoon in hand like a weapon. Effie was amazed. There was no way she could have done that. Her personality was not as overpowering as Sae's, especially against an _axe murderer_. But Greasy Sae put fire to rain, sure enough.

Johanna still hadn't stopped smirking, but she sit calmly in her chair. Carefully, she started putting spoonfuls into her mouth. Daisy, Effie and Greasy Sae watched her in apprehension.

"This is absolute horseshit." Johanna declared, dropping the plate on a table. "How do you cook this?"

"They don't ac-"

"I wasn't asking for you opinion, Trinket!"

"Watch you mouth, young lady-"

"Oh could the Capitol just leave whe-"

"I am not going to put-"

"I'll crush you skull, Trinket. Where are the knives in this place!?"

"Abernathy!" Greasy Sae exclaimed.

Despite the stress of the situation, Daisy was laughing a belly-deep laugh, watching the scene play out across her as if it was a scene from a movie.

Johanna had copied Greasy Sae, pointing a spoon at Effie like a sword. Effie was a canvas of emotion. Half terrified of the aggressive mental hospital patient baring teeth at her, and half disgusted by the spoonful of muck in front of her face.

And then there was Sae, rushing out the door and pulling in a second poor soul by the arm.

"Abernathy?" She murmured, hands on both sides of Haymitch's face, staring into his eyes. It looked almost as it the old woman, who was prompted up high on a chair to reach Haymitch's height, was going to kiss him.

Johanna stopped her death threats. Even she was taking an interest in the hunchback now. The kitchen went dead silent, watching Greasy Sae scrub her hands over the man's face.

"What have they done to you?" she was so soft, so tentative, so out-of-character. Johanna mouthed a " _Heh_?" in confusion. Daisy almost laughed again.

"Oh, this place is a hell. No cooking stew for me, no clothes for your fashionista over there, and no booze for you." Her fingers curled around his cheeks. "And you look like just like your mother."

Effie watched the scene in from of her with curiosity. She had never seen Haymitch so tiresome. Even when he was drunk and passed out on the train he was never so lost. Peeta's return must be straining him, just like it was straining her.

Greasy Sae pulled him in to a hug, and Johanna started laughing, not recognising what she saw in front of her either.

"Oh Abernathy… You look just like your mother." she repeated, only angry the second time round. "You look just like your mother!"

She slapped him, and Haymitch moaned, reacting for the first time since he came into the kitchen.

"How dare they take the alcohol away for this man!" She shouted at the ceiling, causing heads to turn from the cafeteria, "You look like something from the Seam!"

"I am from Seam." Haymitch slurred in a monotone.

"Your father bloody well wasn't!" she remained him.

He winced. Greasy Sae got off the chair, standing in the centre of the kitchen. Johanna was still smirking. She was adjusting her hospital gown to sit better in her chair, arms behind her head. She was enjoying the drama.

"I want to talk to the President." Greasy Sae announced, catching everyone's attention, "Everyone is miserable down here. Too much routine, too little colour. Coin and her inked-on schedules… So much order for the home of a rebellion. So much-"

She paused, looking at her listeners in the kitchen.

"Hospital girl-" she gestured at Johanna "-needs some space. Open space, 'dat is. She needs some air so that she can scream. So 'dat she won't scream at everybody else down in this hole.

"As for Abernathy. God, look at the state of you. You need a bottle of Ripper's 'o white brew-"

His eyes lit up for a second.

"-and a shower and a shave. President Coin might have banned the liquor in this place, but you can still get a haircut. I say you usher hospital gown over here up to de open air. Let her scream at a tree or somethin'. Then you go and get a buzz. The ladies 'n I can continue our conversation without you 'n hospital gown,"

Johanna gave a look at Haymitch, who was practically growling at Greasy Sae. "No." she said simply.

"I don't think so." said Haymitch bluntly. "Why are you having tea parties with Effie Trinket?"

Greasy Sae's eyes widened at his suspicion, but then her gaze hardened. Effie almost saw the gears turn in her brain.

"Trinket is fine when she's not complainin'. She's quiet - political."

Effie smiled, never one to reject a compliment. She didn't know Greasy felt anything other than dislike for Effie. In fact, Effie was flattered.

But then Sae was back to being the tough woman from the Seam: "I really don't care what you want, Abernathy. I'll take care of Mason for you," she seized hold of Johanna again,"But you're still getting 'dat haircut." she warned, posting a finger at him.

The old woman stopped in front of Effie, "You're a stylist, so you're doin' it, or Daisy's not serving you any starch for the next three weeks." Her eyes were wide and mad; but also dead serious. And then she was off and out of the mess hall with Johanna.

Haymitch glared at Effie and Effie at Haymitch. She thought he looked like her might burst.

"You guys better do it." Daisy held up her arms in salute, but giggled innocently, "I can't fight Sae."

Haymitch turned on his heels, "I'll go to the barber in the hospital."

"And get an army cut?" Daisy asked doubtfully, "Clean scalp?"

And so it happened that with relatively little protest Haymitch Abernathy sat in a chair in Effie's small one-person compartment, looking grey and sulky. She could see him twitching in irritation. Yes, _twitching_ in the chair, trying his best to ignore Effie who was watching him in the mirror.

She cleared her throat, wondering what was up with him. She did not know what she preferred: shouting her lungs out at drink-deprived normal Haymitch; or this angsty lump of bored Haymitch.

Greasy Sae had a way of setting up a sticky situation. The woman was bad news. It was most probably her idea the trap the pair of them in the same room so that she could help Haymitch or something. Little did she know about their relationship. They had been through so many endeavours together, but they weren't friends. Half of the time they did not even like each other.

Effie glared at Haymitch. There was nothing that could help this sulking bear other that a bottle of scotch. But she had to for fill Sae's command. The woman was serious when she was serious.

Right, she decided. She will approach this as a simple task, which it was. She had cut people's hair in the past. She had cut her own countless times. She would approach analytically, like organising Katniss and Peeta's Victory Tour. There was no need for this to end up as one of their episodes.

"How ur-" Was she stuttering? What an embarrassment. "How short would you like it?"

His eyes tired across the mirror pane into her's. She held out her fingers in a gap she thought would suit him.

"Or shorter. Like a boy-cut? Something like Finnick's?"

Now that she thought about it, she hadn't seen Haymitch with short hair other than on television during his own Games. Since she met him in person, it had always been the same stingy lenth. Perhaps he'd look younger when he didn't cover his ears.

Haymitch, however, did not seem to agree, "No, not like-" he started, putting on a concerned face, "Keep it long. Only trim the edges."

"I am not a hair stylist." Effie stated, "I don't usually do hair. So if it goes wrong…"

She was met with silence. She rolled her eyes and started snipping. She pulling out locks and snipping their ends, trying her best to keep it at an even length. He started at a fixed shot on the floor.

"You know Greasy Sae." he said after a while.

"I met her the other day." Effie replied, "She mentioned she knew Katniss and Peeta, but she never mentioned you."

Haymitch hummed, "Yeah well. Greasy Sae knows everyone. Even you, apparently."

Effie smiled. "How did you meet her?"

He seemed amused, "You don't meet Greasy Sae… I've just always known her. Everyone in Twelve used to know her."

She snipped off a piece of grey-blonde hair and he watched it fall onto his lap.

"It sounds like you more than know her." Effie said, recalling Sae slapping Haymitch. You only slap people you know really well.

"I guess." he said vaguely.

"Well the way she spoke to you and- I just thought that perhaps." Effie prompted.

He looked away, his walls up like he did whenever things got personal. It fell silent again.

Effie noticed, shamefully, that she had made the one side of his bob exponentially shorter that the other. That was thing they taught in her modelling classes: keep things symmetrical. Whether it was posture or eyeliner, the human eye found level things pleasing. She sighed and started trying to fix it, returning the the other side of his head.

Haymitch had his eyes closed, breathing heavily. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. He looked defeated actually, she decided. Like he could not handle anything anymore. There lines of frustration permanently carved into his forehead. So Effie let him rest.

And rest he did. Haymitch was very nearly asleep when she started on his beard. He got a ticklish sensation when he felt her breathing on his ear.

"Oi! What are you doing."

Effie raised an eyebrow. "Well I'm not going to let you keep the beard. I have to do the job properly."

That would be the final step in getting him to look decent. If there was one way of getting him to look more alive, this would be it.

She gently ran her fingers across his scruff. He wanted to protest, but she caught his jaw. "You have to stay still." she warned, but in a professional tone - sticking to her cold, analytical approach to the situation.

He exiled forcefully, watching her through the mirror. He expected her to snip-snip off his facial hair like she had with the rest, get it as short as she could by cutting. Instead, she did something he'd never seen before. She opened the scissors completely so that they were in a flat 'x' shape. Then, all he could do is watch how she pressed the blade to his cheek and scraped it down toward his mouth.

The whole situation was a lot more daunting that he'd like to admit. There was no form of lubricant to make the process go smoother. Also, the end of the scissors she was using went frighteningly close to his eyeball. Though when she lifted the scissors up again, there was no hair left on his cheek.

"Dry shaving." she explained, "I learnt to do it on my leg hairs."

She picked the blade up again, removing another stripe of hair off his face. He was dead impressed that she wasn't cutting him.

"How do-"

"Keep still." She said, "I don't want to hurt you. You should see my legs. You can be glad I had some practise."

He obeyed, watching her work in the mirror. It was oddly satisfying to see how focused she was at the task. Almost like watching someone make shoes. He used to watch Delly Cartwright's father make leather boots in his shop. Effie had that same undivertable focus.

By the time she started on his neck, the feeling of the dry shave grew on him. And by the time it was over, he was disappointed. Just a bit.

"Chin up." Effie said, checking for any stray hairs she did not cut, and then looked at her work. It was just normal old Haymitch she knew during the Hunger Games, not the depressed Haymitch in Sae's kitchen. He gave her a small smile.

"Sae better be impressed. You looking dazzling." she said, brushing hairs off of his shoulders.

Haymitch scoffed. He had been called 'dazzling' before, by some Capitol folk during his Hunger Games. It was at one of those parties, with one of those hyper sexual Capitol men. He cringed at the memory.

"Yeah, I'm going to check on Katniss." He said, getting up suddenly.

Effie blinked, setting down the scissors. Her floor was scattered with grey-blonde fur.

"Haymitch." she called back, expectant.

"What?" he slurred.

"Manners." she hissed.

For a second it felt like old times. Her, dealing out instructions. Him, not batting an eye. Like she was his pedantic little escort and he was her lazy mentor.

Except this time, there was no witty comment coming her way, "Oh, ur. Thank you, Effie." he mumbled, not sure what else she wanted from him.

A few beats later she was still leaning against the doorway, gingerly asking him about how Peeta was doing. And instead of his walls going up, she was surprised hear him talk.

"He isn't Peeta." he said plainly, the frustration playing on his face again. She softened.

"He will come round." she promised.

She could tell he didn't agree, but he kept his mouth shut, shuffling awkwardly in the corridor. He did not quiet feel like himself. His face felt all exposed and cold without his blanket of scruff. He really needed more of those surgical spirits.

Effie dug out a final snippet of his hair from in between his grey collar and neck. His skin was warm there. When she met his gaze again, it felt different from inside her room. He looked uncomfortable, like she was intruding.

It was only when he was long gone when Effie realised her last touch was neither cold nor analytical.

 **A/N: Review… Don't review… I'm not telling you what to do with your life.**

 **Thank you for reading up to this point, though. You are a better human for doing it.** **Chapter Four**

It was early in the morning. Although he hadn't seen the sun in weeks, Haymitch could tell it was too early. Coin had called a meeting with the entire Mockingjay One team. They sat scattered in the board room, all sleep deprived and agitated.

"She can't make any more propos." Plutarch announced, loud and theatrical as always, "She can hardly speak anymore."

"Nevermind speech." Fulvia proclaimed, "The girl is traumatised."

"We'll have to do something." Plutarch said, "This poor Mockingjay isn't going to be flying anytime soon."

Haymitch guessed it was true. Katniss had woken up two days after his haircut, as emotional and frustrated as he expected to find her, only it was worse.

The first thing she wanted to do was see Peeta. By god, did Haymitch want to stop her, but nothing seemed to separate Katniss from him. She pressed her face against the concealed windows of the mental health ward.

He thought she was going to cry, or start shouting. Really, he would have preferred anything except her slight frown and return to her hospital bed. He asked after her, but she shut him out.

"You did this." she said simply.

And Katniss ignored him and ignored anything to do with being the Mockingjay. She sat in her hospital bed all day long, only talking to Prim or Johanna Mason.

She was probably still sitting sleepless in there, numbed by morphine and still blaming him for what happened to Peeta. Because ultimately, it was his fault. Katniss did not have to confront him on the matter for him to know it was true. He was the one who had the chance to rescue his male victor during the Quarter Quell, but took the Mockingjay instead. He had broken their promise of protecting Peeta and putting him first.

Now Peeta had became Snow's propaganda, Snow's weapon, Snow's _mutt_. And it was his fault.

"How about those victor videos focusing on each individual District?" Cressida reminded the group, "I believe they could be a great success in terms of winning over Two."

"Even so, that is nothing against a Katniss propo." Gale pointed out, receiving nods from the group.

"But Miss Everdeen does not want to the the face of the revolution. She wants to be an ordinary _soldier_." said one of the District Thirteen officials, receiving giggles from a few other District Thirteen soldiers. Everyone knew that Katniss had not been to any training sessions, and that she was still so mentally unstable about the Peeta situation.

"A soldier." Someone repeated, sniggering. Haymitch's eyes narrowed at the arrogance of the man. He still had that loyalty left in him. Those idiots with buzzcuts were insulting his victor. They had clearly never seen the girl shoot.

Then Plutarch was once again stressing the importance of Katniss, and how she was to be taken care of and fixed as soon as possible. "She _is_ the revolution." he cried, making the officers scoff.

The mechanical voice of Coin cut through his complaints. She was speaking for the first time that morning.

"I got the boy back, but she still does not for fill our requests." Coin said from the head of the table. "We have won over all the Districts, except the Capitol and Two. The Mockingjay's objective was to unite the rebellion, and she just as well succeeded in uniting twelve of them. Therefore, Miss Everdeen is no longer needed."

Plutarch sat up in his chair, ready to counterattack, but remained silent. Coin's authoritative voice dominated even a Gamemaker's.

"Miss Everdeen should stay in the hospital ward as long as she is needed." Coin declared, "We will not use her in propos until the time is right at the end of the war. For now, I want you to make the victor videos, starting with District Two and working up. Enobaria, one of the rescued Quarter Quell tributes will do. I expect daily propos as of tomorrow."

There was a stiff moment where Coin's words sank in, and then disagreement chanted across the room. Despite Coin's clear orders, each non-District Thirteen citizen had their own idea of what should happen. Beetee and Gale immediately started conspiring in their corner; then there was Plutarch waving to get Coin's attention; but the most audible objections came from Katiss's prep team. Flavius shouted across the table, and Octavia actually stood up, glaring at Coin through her purple fringe as if she was mad.

"With all due respect, President. I believe that Katniss is still a vital part of the revolution." came a confident Capitol voice from a corner of the room. The banter stopped completely, and many heads turned not having seen the person speak before.

"Katniss is the face of your revolution, Madam President. She might have been the Capitol's pride a year ago, but now she is the everyone else's. If you kept the Districts in the dark about her whereabouts, your soldiers will be lost. I understand if you do not want her to be the focus of the propos; but you will have to update the rebellion on her current condition. Katniss is a figure of hope. She is something, with respect, that is larger than what we realise in this room."

Haymitch would have chuckled if the atmosphere wasn't so tense. Effie looked flushed from all the serious eyes on her.

"Thank you!" Plutarch preached, "That is what I wanted to say!"

"No one gave you permission to speak freely, Commander Heavensbee!" Coin snapped, sending an icy wave across the room. It was the first time she showed any real emotion, in Haymitch's opinion. The collective disrespect going her way must have been too much.

Coin drummed her fingers impatiently, and then sat up, gazing across the room straight at Effie. Effie nervously adjusted her head scarf.

"Madam President, I have news from District Two." It was Boggs, standing tall in the doorway.

"Go on."

"Katniss Everdeen is in the hovercraft bay in District Two." Boggs informed. The table mumbled in confusion, "It is assumed that she took an unauthorised hovercraft without anyone's knowledge late last night."

A bird's eye view of Katniss on a runway appeared on a nearby screen.

"She is at the front line, Madam President, where our troops are suffering the most. She is with Soldier Gale Hawthorn."

The room watched how the little dot Boggs had pointed out met a crowd of people. Almost as if Cressida had directed their actions, the soldiers kissed their palms and flashed three fingers at Katniss. Plutarch grinned from ear to ear.

"That's my girl." Haymitch whispered, watching her move out of the camera frame. Fast, wide strides - definite and with purpose. She really had a nack for timing, that girl, Haymitch thought to himself.

"Commander Heavensbee, if you would please step outside for a moment."

Coin did not look angry - the woman was too good at hiding her feelings - but of course she'd be angry. The woman had no control whatsoever over Katniss. She wasn't just an emotionally unstable teenager who was trying her luck, she was the face of a revolution, and she finally understood it. Katniss had influence above and beyond Coin, even beyond Snow, and she was finally understanding that power. Katniss was rebelling against the rebellion itself.

He tugged onto the earpiece in his pocket, pressing the button to speak to Katniss. To his surprise, the light turned green. He waited a while, seeing it flash a couple of times.

"Sweetheart?"

"What do you want, Haymitch. I'm busy." came a voice. He was so impressed that she actually took the earpiece with her, that he was momentarily silenced.

" _Hellooo_?"

"I just wanted to say nice job, sweetheart. _Very_ nice job."

"Okay. Can you only call when there's useful stuff to tell me."

"Come on, Katniss. Aren't we supposed to be friends?" he whined.

"Have you been drinking again?" She drilled, not really waiting for an answer, "Don't tell me Coin put you up to this. Is she pissed?"

"Ha! Well, you can say that. She's having a chat with Plutarch. I think they're discussing your funeral. Tell me, do you want to be buried or cremated?"

"You _have_ been drinking, haven't you." she said, first hint of wit he'd heard in a while. Perhaps she had forgiven him. "I really hope Coin doesn't make me do something stupid."

"Wanna read your own eulogy?" He was on a roll. "That sounds like a good propo, doesn't it?"

"Oh, ha ha ha, that was a good one." Katniss said sarcastically, "But seriously, I hope she doesn't take it out on you." There was a pause, "I'm really starting to sound like Effie, aren't I?"

Haymitch chuckled then, recalling: ' _your actions reflect badly on all of us!_ '. Just then, Effie had joined Haymitch on his side at the board room table, glancing at him with her big blue eyes

"Who are you talking to?" Effie asked gently.

"Katniss." he answered to Effie.

"What?" the voice snapped through the earpiece. "I'm turing this thing off, Haymitch." Katniss warned.

Effie's fingers fumbled the device out of Haymitch's hands.

"Hello, darling. It's Effie." she said sweetly.

"Oh- ur. Hello Effie." Katniss fretted, not sure if Effie had heard the part where she mentioned Effie's name.

"How are you? Neck okay? Your voice is back."

"Yes. Almost."

"Katniss," and that was where Effie's sweetness ended. "Why did you just leave in the dead of night without saying anything? Did you even know were that Hovercraft was going? We could have lost you! _What_ would I have to tell your sister?"

Haymitch thought it was a bit exaggerated, but Katniss needed to hear it. He was proud of her for getting up and doing something, but nevertheless disappointed that he was not in on the plan.

"I told Johanna." Katniss argued, "And Johanna would have told Prim as soon as she was on duty."

"Now you tell me, young lady, what if that Hovercraft went straight to the Capitol?"

The line was silent, and Effie shared a look with Haymitch.

"You have been very irresponsible." She stressed, "Even with everything that's been going on, you ought to have informed at least myself or Haymitch of your whereabouts."

Haymitch expected her to disconnect. She was in her _screw-the-world-and-all-its-contents_ mood, but Katniss didn't

"You are not my escort." blurred the earpiece.

"I know that. Today I am your manager, or better yet, your friend."

He cringed. Effie was many things, but she was not their friend.

"If you want to be an adult, Katniss. _Take_ _responsibility_. Or let my Haymitch and I baby you. It is a simple request."

And then she did disconnect. Haymitch was not surprised.

"Someone had to tell her, Haymitch." Effie said, justifying her actions. For once, Haymitch did not feel the need to retaliate.

"I hope she doesn't throw the thing away, that's all I'm saying. That was the first time she's spoken to me in weeks."

Effie frowned slightly, putting the device back on the table.

"Nice job to you too, by the way."

"What do you mean?" she enquired.

"Confronting Coin in front of everyone."

"Oh." she looked at her feet, "Yes. I shouldn't have done that."

"And why not?" Haymitch was amused, "It was funny. Did you see her face?"

"Did you see mine?" she retaliated, referring to her blushing while everyone stared at her. Then, without warning, she felt her face heating up again. It was a good thing he didn't smile at her that often.

"You okay there, princess?" he was enjoying seeing her squirm.

She shook her head in defeat, "I am fine. Thank you for asking."

"Yeah." he sang, only to be silenced by Coin. She grey-haired woman entered the room again, raising a hand to quiet the amused board room.

"Firstly, I have to congratulate Miss Everdeen on her… spontaneity."

Effie could hear Haymitch give a breathy laugh beside her.

"I agree." butted in Plutarch, "We will work in Katniss into the propos about the war in District Two."

"Meanwhile," Coin continued, "The focus back in District Thirteen will also be on District Two. The focus is military in nature. I want as many soldiers in the district to win over the primary military centre. It is based inside a fortified mountain, and houses all the Capitol nuclear weapons. It will be a difficult task, but once we capture it, out next step is the Capitol. We cannot win this war whilst President Snow is in a superior military position. We need everyone working to get the mountain in our hands."

"It is going to be a tough nut to crack." Plutarch said with a smile, "Operation 'The Nut', if you will."

Coin and Plutarch went on to assign different rolls to different parts of the team. Beetee and the rest of the brains are to fly to District Two first thing when the meeting is over. After that, other military commanders and soldiers including Gale are to join them, and Operation The Nut is to be planned in conjunction with command back in Thirteen.

Until that point, Cressida's propo team must start working on the victor videos in the studios. These videos could be aired at any time during the war with two, or the later war against the Capitol, so they had to be strong and thorough. Cressida and her cameramen will be sent to District Two when the time is right for Operation The Nut to commence.

Effie was quiet confused, as neither Coin or Plutarch mentioned her name when describing the plan. In fact, Effie noted how each person was given a task, except her. They skipped her when reading off the list. She wasn't concerned though. She would do what she normally did and give Katniss advice when she allowed her to. And if she did not, her task was to communicate Plutarch's needs to the prep team.

When the people in the board room left, they each such their arms inside the wall to allow a machine to print their daily schedules onto their arm.

Haymitch complained when he saw the ink on his arm. He had to spend the whole day in command trying to get Katniss to talk. When Effie pulled her arm outside the machine she was quiet confused. Her schedule said all sorts of duties, all things she'd never seen before. Effie was used to seeing ' _Mockingljay One_ ' occupy most of the schedule, instead there stood '7h00 - _Micro Farming_ _Level 35A_ ', '12h00 _\- Laundry_ _Level 24_ ', '14h30 _Structure Level 25C2_ ' and so on.

When she showed Haymitch he laughed, "They got that wrong, for sure." he said. Neither of them could imagine her doing those strange duties.

"Try print it again on your other arm." Beetee suggested. "The system must have mismatched your DNA."

But when she pulled out her opposite arm the schedule was the same.

Her brow furrowed, seeing the monitor read: ' _Identified Trinket, Effie; Citizen 00432278; Residence Level 31;_ '

"It must be command's mistake." Beetee said with some interest, inspecting the monitor closely.

"I'm going to speak to Plutarch." she stated, walking back to into board room. There he stood, talking in a low voice to Coin and one of her cronies. They turned at her accusingly, as if she was eavesdropping.

"Sorry to interrupt. Plutarch, you seem to have given me the wrong duties." she said with some amusement, gesturing to the sticky ink on her skin.

"Me, farming. Can you imagine?" Effie joked, trying to ignore the way the Coin looking at her.

"Right." Plutarch ushered her to sit down. Effie grew suspicious.

"Um, there is no easy way to put it. I am sorry to say that you have been discharged from the team, Effie."

It did not hit her at first. She looked around, expecting Fulvia jump out saying was all a joke or something.

"We thought that since Katniss is in District Two there would be no need for you to manage her." Plutarch explained.

"Yes, but when she returns I'll be there for her." Effie reassured herself.

Plutarch looked uncomfortable, "You would still be discharged."

Effie spun around, looking at the faces of the people staring at her. "You can't be serious? But… Wha- _Why?_ "

Plutarch remained silent, so Fulvia filled in, "Effie-"

"No, this is- it is absurd. Katniss needs me. I have always been part of this."

"Your job was to guide Katniss into making the right decisions." said Plutarch.

"I-" she gasped, "You can't seriously believe that I was involved with her getting on that hovercraft last night?"

"But you could have prevented it." Fulvia proposed.

She was at a loss for words. Was she getting fired? Could she even be fired?

"But Haymitch is also mentoring Katniss."

"Soldier Trinket." came Coin, "With half the citizens leaving to go to war in District Two I am in need of others taking their place. This is a difficult decision that Commander Heavensbee and I had to make, but we are getting rid of all non-essential people on the team."

"Non-essential? Am I the only non-essential member of Mockingjay One?" Effie looked hurt. "But Haymitch does the exact same job as me."

"Soldier Abernathy is involved with Mister Mellark's recovery program as well as Miss Everdeen's well-being."

"And he gets to stay? I have known Katniss for two years. I _understand_ her."

"Haymitch does knows Katniss much better." Fulvia said. "And he's been part of the rebellion since the 53rd Games, which is more than you'd imagine to have contributed."

"You cannot-" Effie trailed off, "At least get me involved with the propos. Or the prep team! I am a trained stylist. I can still help."

Coin and Plutarch looked despondent.

"But I am trained for this. I am trained to take care of her. You can't seriously think I am going to benefit your district by farming?"

"I am sorry, Soldier Trinket, but nothing will change my decision."

Coin's robotic voice was the last thing she heard before leaving the room. Effie wandered down the corridor, thinking she'd find Haymitch and Beetee waiting for her, but they were no where in sight. She felt strangely light headed - the kind of feeling you'd get after a sugar high. Effie didn't feel particularly angry about Plutarch and Coin decision. The only thing really bothering her was how empty her chest was feeling and the fact that she wasn't exactly sure were she was going.

"Are you off duty, soldier?" an officer stopped her.

She was about to pull out the Mockingjay One card when she remembered. He pulled up her sleeve and read her schedule, pointing her in the direction of the stairs.

"You have duties on Level 35, soldier, and you are twenty minutes late." came the man's stern voice.

Effie wanted to see Daisy in the kitchen. Maybe she could explain some of this all to her. Perhaps getting Greasy Sae to rant on about the extent of Coin's so called _dictatorship_ might help her. Effie felt she even needed Haymitch's opinion on the matter, but her schedule showed no time dedicated to breakfast. In fact, there were no breaks until later that night. Effie walked the corridors purposelessly, feeling very far from herself.

She could not believe what had just happened. 'Anyone can be replaced.' she recalled Plutarch telling her. She did not believe him. In fact, she still didn't.

Effie thought about her place in the team. Was she really as unnecessary as Fulvia had painted her to be? Did she really matter that little that her old friend Plutarch has not willing to fight for her place on the rebellion team? Did Coin really dislike her that much that she got kick off her own team. Perhaps she should start using proper tenses, as Greasy Sae kept reminding her. Mockingjay One _had been_ her team.

And then she found herself on Level 35, being yelled at by some soldier about punctuality. Another soldier who seemed to be in charge gave her a third lecture. When she tired to explain her situation, and that she was not trained, the woman rolled her eyes. They made her sit in the corner and start labelling packets.

During laundry duty, Effie simply sat around getting her unfriendly stares (some downright cruel) from women busy folding grey jumpsuits. But the worst part of the day was when Effie remembered being in a hall for _hours_. The ' _Structure_ ' duty turned out to be receiving lectures from a woman teaching all sorts of things about duties, and about how and why certain people get certain duties, how to do all sorts of duties… but Effie really wasn't paying attention.

It was long past nine at night when her duties came to an end. The cafeteria was deserted. Both Daisy and Sae were off duty. Effie decided to follow her schedule one last time that day, and showered. Once both ink tables were washed off her arms, she felt purposeless once again. Tiered, but not in the right mind to sleep.

She went looking for Haymitch by Peeta's hospital room. She knew that he sat there some nights, but obviously not that night. She once again had no one to talk to.

Then she watched the boy through the windows of the mental ward for a while. He was awake, watching something invisible in the air. Peeta's usual bright eyes were angry and distracted. Whatever invisible object he kept twitching at in the harsh light of his room was moving. Up and down left and right his eyes flashed. It was like watching a lizard with bug eyes preparing to catch a fly. The more she watched him, the less she thought of the intelligent, charismatic boy who she reaped two years ago. This thing, with Peeta's face and Peeta's voice, was not Peeta.

Effie sunk down into a chair. She had the sudden longing to be home.

She wanted to lie under her blanket during the cold Capitol winter. She wanted Katoo to be there in her apartment, cracking dry jokes and sharing stories of the people at her workplace. She wanted someone to hold her, to assure her that she was not alone in the hardships of life.

So Effie wandered some more through the grey district that was not at all the tinted glass skyscrapers of the Capitol. She found herself on Level 39, looking for any door that resembled a residential compartment door. She wanted to find someone to talk to, even if that had to be the conversation of Haymitch Abernathy.

Before she could knock on a promising-looking door, an official chased her away. He said that it was time for citizens of her ranking to rest. So she did. Up on her level, alone in her compartment. staring at the only things she knew to be beautiful in District Thirteen: Her rosewood shirt she arrived in; her straw-yellow wig; a string of forgotten pearls; and most importantly, a small portrait of the four Trinket sisters. All mementos of a life she knew would never be her's again.


	3. Chapters 5 - 6

**Chapter 5**

 **A/N: I wrote this story in a holiday years ago and while stretching though old documents, it turned up. I still don't know why I published it. I have not Beta'd it and it isn't entirely finished either - just as a pre-warning.**

 _Effie pushed through the crowds of the subway network, holding her arms out like antennas to create personal space. She was quiet swear of the fact that she looked utterly ridiculous in her runway clothes. Capitol fashion was one thing, but Capitol fashion directly from the runways was another all together. There stares were potent and everywhere, but a larger part of Effie simply did not have the energy to care anymore, as it had been such a long, terrible day._

 _Makaria had finally sacked her. To tell the truth, Effie was surprised it had taken so long. Most models only lasted four or five years. She had spent more than half her life working for Makaria's brand, and she finally had the good sense to let Effie go, because it had been too long._

 _She often wandered how designers managed to stay in the fashion industry for so long. If she thought of the greying women still stitching at the back of the studio… Well she supposed they had come there by choice._

 _Ten years of runway was enough for Effie. She had first arrived when she was only fourteen. Too young to understand anything about business and too old to not care about why Makaria had chosen her. For her perfect body. For her perfect proportions._

 _A common misconception of the fashion industry was that it was about beauty. Yes, the gowns and the make up was surely beautiful, but the models were not. The agents had made that very clear when Effie first arrived. She was there not for her beauty, but for her proportions. The distance between the tip of her nose and her forehead; the gap between her waist and her loose hanging arms; Effie's height and her posture. That's was why she was there: for winning the genetic lottery of Capitol-approved hip size and eye colour._

 _And like beauty, proportions had their way of deteriorating. Makaria sacked Effie because she had run out of excuses to keep the girls's body in her photo shoots. Effie was so enclosed in the fashion industry, that she hardly knew something outside of it existed. So after an unnecessary argument, she was pushed out the doors and onto the street - still in full costume. That was a tradition in the fashion industry. No matter how long a model served a designer, or for what reason he or she left, they left in full costume. Make up, wigs, stilettos… the works._

 _When she finally pushed through the crowd, she found her 5:15 train disappearing around the corner. All that rushing and shoving for nothing. Although Effie's legs ached, she leaned against a wall. Sitting would most certainly tear her dress, which was made of cellophane._

 _Effie would later conclude that it was almost destiny he arrived that day. She would not have predicted what a profound impact the man would have on her life, or the friendship they would share. Especially when the seemly ordinary man in a grey suit walked past her on the platform._

 _It was dead obvious he was in the same business as her. Perhaps not a model, but defiantly a stylist. His suit had just the correct cuts to be considered trendy and not old fashioned. He wore his hair up, but not overstated like some other stylists. When he stood close by, she noticed triplet copper rings on his fingers that looked rather pricey. Perhaps he was a designer, not a stylist._

 _"_ _Deleeg or Makaria?" he asked._

 _He was looking at her clothes, which meant he was looking at her outdated proportions. This man knew her position exactly and it made her irritable. Effie looked away, quiet angry. She thought she left questions like that behind once they kicked her out the studio, but it looked like the designers just couldn't get enough or her._

 _"_ _Makaria." she answered._

 _"_ _July?"_

 _"_ _August range." she corrected, although she was impressed by the stranger's knowledge of the brand._

 _"_ _I recognise you." he said, smiling slightly, "You wore her March line as well. The one inspired by origami."_

 _"_ _That is right." Effie said, "You seem…_ informed _."_

 _"_ _I just keep my eyes open." he said, "The competition is harsh."_

 _So he was a designer, Effie concluded. She thought that she recognised him now. A intern of a few years prior… or had she seen him at a party?_

 _"_ _You should not worry about Makaria as competition. She will be shutting down soon." She says, surprised by her own words._

 _He raises his eyebrows._

 _"_ _Insufficient funds." she states plainly, enjoying being free of loyalty to a particular brand._

 _"_ _That is a shame." he says, "I was looking forward to her usual 'October Blues'."_

 _Effie laughs at this. She couldn't even remember how many violet outfits Makaria had made Effie put on in her life. All sorts over the years. From the elaborate furry coats to the lizard scales of the previous year. The only common theme being the colours blue, purple and an odd wine-like colour Makaria named despair. 'October Blues' was Malaria's only annual range. According to Makaria herself the start of the winter was so overbearing that she had to express her melancholy in some or other way. Effie chuckled. It almost made her long for another despair-coloured cocktail dress._

 _The train eventually comes and the man helps Effie up by her arms onto the carriage. She thanks him for his manners. Not all of the seats are filled by other passengers on the train, but the man continues to stand with Effie. She thanks him again._

 _"_ _So I take it you want to start your own clothing line?"_

 _"_ _That is correct." The man said, "It will be called 'Chiaroscuro'. That is if it ever happens."_

 _Effie smiles at this. She hadn't heard of a stylist who doesn't use their own name for branding in a while._

 _"_ _Where did you study?"_

 _"_ _I am self taught." he says, which surprises Effie. "I've done internships mostly to get exposure."_

 _"_ _And did they work?"_

 _"_ _I have a few investors." he says vaguely, "It's all about the product few me. Food on the table is a benefit. I had my first proper exposure last year. The 44th Hunger Games."_

 _That is when Effie clicks and remembers where she saw him before. He was the costume designer for the previous year's parade. Was it District Eleven? She did not remember exactly, except that his dresses had been fabulous, or so Caesar Flickerman said._

 _"_ _Right! Now I know where I know you from._ The Hunger Games. _" Effie exclaims, "Look at you, you're making your mark." she says, the slightest trace of melancholy._

 _He looks at her legs and she shuffles uncomfortably. Those knees had been the first sign Effie's proportions going south. Then it had been her breasts, and Makaria lost it when her first signs of wrinkles appeared. Then she kicked Effie out and now her life was a disaster. No place to live, no real money that would last and no job._

 _Most models go on the be designers if they're lucky, or stylists if they are slightly less. Effie, who was never interested in the producing clothes herself, was at a lost. Of course there were those models who had some sort of back up plan. A degree or a position waiting for them in an office somewhere. Effie had started her modelling so early that she did not have the time to finish school, never mind study something afterwards. Now she was in the position of being gloriously unqualified and poor. She had no idea what career to pursue next._

 _"_ _What is your name?"_

 _"_ _Effie Trinket."_

 _"_ _Effie Trinket. That sounds poetic. Almost like an opera."_

 _"_ _Thank you." she said appreciatively, "What can I call you?"_

 _He grinned, but didn't seem to listen to her question. Instead, the man pushed her arms out, arranging her like she was a manikin. Effie supposed that she should have been more uncomfortable with a stranger touching her, but she was so used people doing it in modelling._

 _"_ _Can you talk again?"_

 _Effie was surprised at his odd question._

 _"_ _Tell me about your day." he prompted. She considered shoving his hands away, but she didn't. She saw an underlying sense of trust warm brown eyes._

 _"_ _Well if I am going to be honest with you, it has been rather terrible."_

 _He smiled at her perplexed frown._

 _"_ _I found you."_

 _For a wild moment, Effie thinks he is talking about his brand and modelling. Maybe the stranger saw something in her obscure proportions that Makaria dismissed._

 _"_ _You intrigue me." he says simply, "And I like your voice. I think I like you and I think we are going to get along quiet well."_

 _She was confused._

 _"_ _I was given a task by Fillius Strikerland."_

 _And then the man did not have to explain further, because Effie knew what how he would change her life. Fillius Strikerland was a Gamemaker._

 _"_ _I will recommend your name at my next Hunger Games meeting. I can't guarantee anything, but- "_

 _"_ _You think I can make a good escort?"_

 _"_ _I like the look of you and you intrigue me, so I'm sure you'll intrigue Panem."_

 _This stuns Effie. She had heard of models who became escorts. A handpicked few who could go study at a finishing school of sorts and then be assigned into a District. Of course, only selected people even got the honour of picking suitable escorts. She had only heard of this like this happening in plays. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and it was coming from a complete stranger. She shook her head, thinking how it was all a dream._

 _"_ _This is my stop." the man says, and Effie realises how quiet she had gone._

 _"_ _Wait!"_

 _He turns back._

 _"_ _Thank you." she whispers, grabbing his hand. She wondered how she could emphasise how grateful she was._

 _"_ _Effie Trinket, top Capitol model and future escort of the Hunger Games." he announces, "Don't worry, I'll find you."_

 _"_ _This isn't real."_

 _She matches his grin. He disembarks from the train, staring into her eyes with promise. Promise Effie didn't know she deserved. The doors shut._

 _Quiet panicked, Effie shouts: "But I don't know your name!"_

 _"_ _Cinna!" he cries. She watches his form float away from the train's window._

Then the Effie wakes up with a jump. She sits up, her mind temporarily adjusting between fantasy and fiction, eyes fuzzy and unfocused in the morning light. Although that had not been a fantasy - it was a memory. A memory which Effie often doubted was a real event that occurred at times. She checked her bedside table just in case, seeing her pink skirt she had worn as District Twelve's escort. Real. Defiantly real.

She rolled over into the duvet of her bed, still imagining that ride on the train. A spike of guilt rose in her chest. She hadn't through of Cinna in a long while. She allows herself to get lost in happy thoughts of him, before abruptly remaining herself that he had died.

She sat up, heart pounding, doubting everything for a minute. With a glance in the small mirror on the wall, she looked for reassurance in her reflection.

Cinna was not alive anymore. _Yes._ President Snow sent the peacekeepers to kill Cinna. _Yes._ She was not Effie Trinket the escort anymore, because the rebellion was still happening. _Double yes._ She was still living amongst the cave dwellers. _Sigh._

Effie dragged herself out of bed and pulled on the disgusting grey robes. She stuck her hand in the wall and got a new purple inked schedule for the day. Gazing down at it depressively, she noticed that they at least had the decency to give her breakfast that time.

"My Effie! Where on earth were you-" started a concerned Daisy, "What _happened_?"

"They sacked me." she stated. Perhaps that was why she had had that dream.

"They what?" Sae asked.

"Coin kicked me off of the team. I'm a _farmer_ now."

She heard a clatter Greasy Sae violently plunged a serving of sludge onto a plate. That day the colour was Payne's grey, and apparently it was cooked with sprouts.

" _What?_ " came Sae's protest, "They can't just do that!"

Daisy had her hands folded in concern as Greasy Sae ranted on at length, just as Effie hoped she would.

x

Effie's first week of not being in Mockingjay One comprised almost entirely of _Structure_. After her first day sitting around because she had no real training in any of the activities, she was forced to attend lectures all day long.

A horrible feel of exclusion floated around Effie wherever she went. The District Thirteen citizens, and even the refugees from other places, were friendly until she opened her mouth. When they heard her accent they shut her off, whether they intended to or not.

More disappointing than the districts refusing to talk to her, was the fact that she was so in there dark with Katniss's whereabouts. She never noticed just how selective Coin's propo was until she was just a normal citizen. She hardly heard anything about Operation 'The Nut' or the war going on in two. There was more news from Caesar Flickerman each night than there was from Kantiss, and most of the Katniss propos were repeats she recognised from Cressida's tablet months ago.

Being off the team meant she never got to see anyone from Mockingly One. Her schedules did not match any of the stylists and almost the whole team was in District Two. It was fine to spend her free time in the company of Daisy and Sae, but Effie longed for a conversation with Octavia. The other Capitol refugees were the ones who came closest to understanding what she was going through, and they were the only ones she could discuss home with.

If Haymitch remained behind in District Thirteen she did not see him. Coin had almost her entire population leaving for the war in District Two. Suddenly the cafeteria stood only half-full at breakfast, and there were showers open when Effie wanted to wash. There was a define need for people doing ordinary jobs around the sinkhole.

Effie would discover the _Structure_ lectures to not all be completely dead boring. Of course some of the classes were like lullabies - spoken by soft voices about topics that made her doze off. Others talks kept Effie on the edge of her seat.

Politics was the one that she enjoyed the most. An ex-peecekeeper now rebellion soldier woman gave daily lessons about the history of the revolution, and what happened before it. Effie had never questioned anything further than the Capitol textbooks, which turned out to be complete rubbish anyway. She learnt more from the five _Structure_ lessons she had had in her eleven years of history at school. The lecturer - Donatello - said that she should not trust anything she learnt in the past, especially if it was from the Capitol.

Effie was angry the first time she proposed this. The thought of it was absurd. Her whole head's content - almost all her understanding of the world - came from the Capitol. It was arrogant for the woman to brush aside her entire world view.

But then she explained to her that she grew up in a world of propaganda. Effie knew the media from her home was a bit subjective to Snow's side, but not to what extent. The woman showed flaws in story books; early versions of the Hunger Games with obvious plot twists made to suit Snow. Even some television shows she had watched as a little girl was pure propaganda, and it was a nightmare. Effie realised that her whole world had been fake. Everything she had learnt - the supposed ear of peace they lived in, the 'stable' economy the Capitol controlled…

Every night Effie explained the lectures to Daisy and Greasy Sae. They were non-judgemental listeners, who were surprised by how stunningly little she knew about the rebellion.

"You didn't know about the riots in Eleven?" Daisy asked doubtfully.

"I didn't know know about any riots!" Effie exclaimed. "The Capitol news said nothing. The only thing questionable on the television was the truthfulness of Finnick Odair's affairs."

"I don't believe you." Sae said, but not in a harsh way, "You were involved with the districts. You came to Twelve once a year. You could have see the tension."

"Katniss was oblivious to the riots too." Effie said, and after a few moments of silence. Sae stared at her with her head crooked, a deep scorn on her battered face. It made Effie shudder. "I am just trying to progress the fact that everything that I've ever been taught is a lie."

Greasy Sae shook her head. "You only saw what you wanted to see."

"I only saw the little information I was given." Effie retaliated, a bit disgusted by the condescending tone in Sae's voice, but more and more worried about losing the little trust the woman had in her.

"Don't stress, sugar." Daisy assured her, "I understand."

Of course not all of _Structure_ was enjoyable. There was an old man who had enthusiasm that could give Beetee a run for his money. The only issue was that the man's enthusiasm was for laundry detergents and different alkaline solutions to best clean clothes. Effie couldn't stand his class.

Then there was farming, in which the guy actually went through the process of how photosynthesis works underground with specialised UV lights. It would be interesting if he did not go into such immaculate scientific detail. Effie rolled her eyes, but she noticed the way some of the district refugees paid attention to the class. Some even from farming districts like Eleven and Nine, yet they acted like it was all new to them. Effie wondered if it was news to them. Had they not been taught this in school?

A similar thing happened when the lecturer explained the nuclear power plant on Level 37. He went into the process of atoms splitting with their neutrons… something to do with fission… Effie was not really paying attention, not wanting to relive her early days of boredom in high school. But the district people were. Effie wondered how much they really learnt at school, and felt very privileged all of a sudden for knowing what things like phrases and clauses were and Pythagorus was.

She thought to herself that the Politics class was wrong. Perhaps not all the media she had ever taken in had been brainwashing propaganda. She knew more about how the physical world around her worked than any of the district refugees. For the first time she felt grateful for an education she always considered a burden.

x

After one whole week not talking to anyone from Mockingjay One, she runs into Haymitch.

"What are you doing here?" she enquired. They were on Level 31 - Effie's level. Haymitch would have no reason to be there.

"I was looking for you." he said simply. Haymitch looked over his shoulder and Effie became very aware of the rigid grey soldier standing in the corridor. "Can we talk - um - more privately?"

She pulled him by the arm in through a door - her compartment door - and closed it behind them.

Haymitch leaned back onto a table uncomfortably, finding his palms on Effie's old wig. He stared at it for a while, trying to see it on the plain-faced Effie in front of him now.

She cleared her throat.

"Right. Um- I am going to District Two in an hour."

"Whatever for?" she asked, finding an explanation for the army bag slung over his shoulders.

"Coin wants me there to prep Katniss before we attack."

The word attack rung through her head. Effie looked concerned. She tried to picture Haymitch Abernathy around a table of Coin's military hunks, but the image never fit.

"Is that really necessary?" she asks, "Can't you talk to her through the earpiece?"

"Our darling Mockingjay threw it down the side of a cliff." he states drenched in annoyance, "Also. I don't really have a choice. She wants me there in person." He looked solemn. "Something to do with Gale too, apparently."

"This is a problem." she stated after a while.

"What is?"

" _Coin_."

He glances at her. She half expected the judgemental stare he gave during the night of Snow's fireworks. Instead, he sighs deeply.

"I don't know why she made you leave."

He crossed his arms over his chest. He did not have to say that, and Effie was appreciative that he did.

"I tried to talk to Plutarch about it. He went all quiet." Haymitch looked puzzled.

"I reckon it's because I antagonised her during the last meeting."

" _Antagonised_." he scoffed.

"Yes, antagonised! She downright hates me. Did you see the stare?"

"You were just saying what we all were thinking." Haymitch says, "Don't worry too much. I'll get Katniss to whisper pretty things into Coin's ear and you'll be back in no time."

Effie brightens. She had not considered that yet. All Katniss had to do was say the word and she could scrap the whole farming business.

"Thank you." she says, no knowing how to make it sound meaningful. She said it so often.

"It would be my pleasure." he said. Perhaps that was the one benefit of having no manners at all. Once you pulled out the odd phrase, it really stuck.

Effie smiled, and opened the door for him.

"When will you be… attacking?" Effie asked, not sure if she was speaking in the correct military jargon.

"Not sure." he answered, "But it can't be long if they want me there before 11."

He raised a hand in salute, still not at all looking like a soldier, and bobbled off down the corridor.

"Haymitch." she calls back, knowing that her next words will sound foolish. She says them regardless. "Come back, will you."

"What else would you expect from me, princess?" he smiles over his shoulder.

She watches him stride down the length of the passage, wondering if it was the last time she'd see the sight. She shakes her head. It wasn't like Haymitch was going into combat or anything. He would be back soon with Katniss by his side.

She last thing she notices is a hard rectangular block in his back pocket. She wonders briefly why he had not put the object inside his bag if it was so bulky, but then he is gone.

x

One morning the ink on Effie's arm does not have instructions for _Structure_. Instead, there is the finely printed lettering of _Trainee_ _Micro Farming Level 35C._ Effie speed walks up a few levels, almost excited to not be sitting around all day.

She meets a farmer man from District Eleven, who takes her deep underground to the agricultural sector of District Thirteen. Daisy explained to Effie that she once did farming as a young woman, and that it was by that the most enjoyable assigned duty, after catering of course. As much as Daisy enthused, Effie struggled to see the joy in the concept, until she was there herself.

The first thing she noticed was that micro farms were great deal warmer than the other levels. Second, is that they weren't quiet levels at all. The ceilings were high and constructed out of slick brown stone. It was like being in a cave with natural bends and curves, except the expanse of the room was filled with hundreds upon hundreds of square planters.

The thing that intrigued Effie most about the cavern were the lights. In-between static tights of the cave ceiling were Florissant light bulbs. They painted the cabin a purple colour, making everything that appeared grey and concrete as something else.

"The UV lights that the plants absorb for energy." the man explained to her. "They are the suns that makes it possible to grow food 250 meters below ground."

"The water comes from a natural reserve underground, and then runs through the pipes and into these sprayers."

The man looked at Effie, as if he needed a reply.

Effie smiled nervously, not quiet knowing what to say. She kneeled beside a planter of greens she could not identify. Gently, she ran her fingers up the fine stem of a seedling, feeling the soft white fuzz that cover it. The sensation reminded her of velvet.

"That's a tomato plant." the man said, "You don't do much farming in the Capitol?"

"Not exactly." she said, humouring herself in a mental image of a line of corn plants down Union Avenue. "It can't be that hard, can it?"

"Not in the slightest." he smiled.

Effie thought that the man belonged amongst the tomato plants. His eyes were the same colour as the fertile earth, and his skin punched from years of abuse from the sun. She looked at her own palms, seeing nothing of the sort. Only the pale fingers which were crying of from some moisturiser. They had never worked a day in their life.

"We'll find you a place here. Everyone does."

Effie had odd jobs during _Micro Farming_ duty. No one quiet yet trusted Effie with her pink shoes and bangles to pick up a shovel. Instead she had to check the Ph levels of various planters, or count stock, but Effie did not mind. She liked the rustic feeling of the room and the happy-looking green plants. She really did not mind what stupid jobs they gave her, as long as it was not _Laundry_ duty.

x

After her usual dinner with Daisy and Greasy Sae, Effie would climb the stairs to shower, wait for her hair to dry, and then go and visit Peeta. She read his medical journal each day, as well as getting updates from Prim, who was now working alongside a phycologist to try and fix the boy. Despite the efforts, his condition getting more intense each time she visited.

Effie caught him sometimes when he sat still on his bed, looking like a human being lost in thought. But more often than not, he would mumble to himself in agitation, hitting his hands on the pillow - more like a mutt.

Prim said that a slow adjustment to reality would do the trick with Peeta. He had to introduced to what his life had been, but in small dosages over a long period of time. The doctor recommended tokens, physical objects, photographs, smells - anything non-Katniss related. Some days, Peeta would even speak to an old neighbour from District Twelve. It made Effie hope that Peeta would get good enough that he could meet Katniss again.

One particular night when Effie walked in to see Peeta she found him asleep. In the two weeks she had been visiting him, she had never seen this. She pulled a chair close to the glass to see him better.

She wished that she could go inside the room to properly pull his blanket over him. After all, this was the first time she was one hundred percent sure he was sleeping. Other times his eyes would be closed, but the mutt inside of him wouldn't be resting. On those occasions, his fingers would twitch erratically and the heart rate monitor would blink rapidly.

That night, however, she saw his fringe move up and down in the slow current of his breathing. The monitor beeped lazily, for intervals that seemed minutes apart. She took this time to relax, try to not think of herself; but just of Peeta.

And that is why the appearance of Johanna Mason nearly gave her a heart attack that night.

"Are you ever gonna talk to him?" she said, sharp and arrogant.

Effie fell off of the chair, feeling a terror bounce in her chest. She whipped around, not seeing where the voice originated from.

"Who's there?" she called feebly, struggling to her feet, scanning the room. She expected to see a monster or something. Effie picked up the medical file, holding it out for protection. She was ready to defend herself against whoever the voice belonged to, not even caring how little damage two pieces of cardboard with her twig-like arms would do.

A head emerged from the shadows. It reminded Effie of Peeta during his fist games, when her had revealed his disguise in the river to Katniss. Johanna appeared out of what had been nothing.

"Jesus, Trinket."

Effie got up properly, thinking her height could make her feel braver against the victor. It didn't. She knew it more than ever in that moment: Johanna Mason was taller than her, more built than her, and defiantly more intimidating that her.

The woman strode across to her, arms behind her back, back straight. The way she moved, with her hands concealed, made Effie think she was hiding something. Effie imagined that Johanna had an axe behind her back.

"Wha- what are you doing here?" she trembled.

"Same as you." she said casually, "Watching someone else so that you know you're not the most insane person you know."

Johanna sat on the table, hands on the ledge. Effie exhaled in relief because there was no axe.

"Didn't the Capitol teach you it's rude to stare?" Johanna snapped.

Effie blinked, only understanding Johanna's comment after thinking for a while. She was not wearing her hospital gown. Instead, there was grey pants, but that was where the clothing stopped.

"You like them?" she said, looking down at her bare chest, smirking like a mad woman. Effie ponders for a moment - Johanna probably was a mad woman.

"Come on, Trinket! Why are you so tense?"

"Because you startled me!" She yelped. "How long have you been watching me?"

"Why should you care? Is is _creepy_?" she jeered.

"Yes it is!"

Johanna looked down at the ground, and when she looked up, Effie didn't recognise what she saw.

"I- I am so sorry." Johanna murmured, "It was not my intention to do that. You see- I didn't realise…"

Effie was buying it for two whole seconds until she shrieked with laughter.

"So gullible!"

Effie's eyes narrowed. Johanna had taken it one step too far.

"You call me the rude one, when you conspire for days on end think how you can torment me! It's not even that it's rude, it is just mean. _Despicable_! Anyone decent would know that. I come here so I can have my ounce of peace for the day, and look what you've just done to it! I get that you want to live out your anger for President Snow something, but don't let it be me!"

Johanna smiled for a minute, and then walked up to her. She inspected Effie's face carefully, looking for what, Effie did not know. Then it was as if recognition registered with Johanna, and she put on another sad face. Effie couldn't tell if it was another lie, or if it was genuine guilt. She did not want to know.

Despite the pandemonium happening inside the observation room, Peeta still slept. The heart monitor beeped occasionally, reminding Effie why she was really there. She sat back down on the chair, watching him in an undisturbed concentration. She wanted Johanna to leave, so she could try and find her equilibrium again.

But that was not happening. Johanna sighed in an exaggerated moan. She laid back on the table, making a glass of water fall and shatter. She just watched the floor, now showered in sharp shards.

A third voice chanted through the room, making the two woman turn back. This time, it was a hologram turning on in the corner. Effie half-expected the Capitol badge and old Panem anthem to start playing. Instead, it was rebel interference of Capitol mandatory viewing. A far-off shot of a mountain appeared on the screen. Johanna and Effie watched it, waiting for something to happen. Eventually, a crashing sound fills the room and white clouds cover the mountain.

"This was the Capitol's central defence base." came a voice over of Katniss.

Effie watches as the clouds settle in the screen, deciding they must be snow on the side of the mountain that came down like avalanches.

"The rebellion has now claimed it."

"No shit." Johanna interrupts.

"That which you just saw was a den of wolves, bullies of the districts. For seventy-five years, that was the hornet's nest of the peacekeepers. Now, with the help of thirteen united districts, it is Snow's weapon no more!" Katniss booms.

The mountains look sealed shut under the snow, almost making Effie doubt there was a mountain in the first place.

"They got District Two!" Johanna cheers, but is cut off by the screen talking again.

"District Two is not yet the rebel's completely. All that is left to do is win over the support of the Capitol extremists inside the military base."

The voice was not Katniss's, which makes her unsure of the purpose of the propo was. The scene cuts to a dark train station. The lighting is faint in the shot, but Effie can make out the outline of a person. They turn, and she sees Katniss in full Mockingjay suit pride. Effie tenses.

"This is Katniss Everdeen speaking to all the loyalists from the heart of District Two."

Effie and Johanna watch as Katniss paces toward the oncoming train. Effie thinks that this footage is live because there are crackles and grey lines between her words. Cressida's editing would not have allowed that to happen.

"Hold your fire! Drop your guns!" comes a voice off screen.

There is an intervention, and Effie is not entirely sure what happens. The screen goes grey temporarily. When the pictures reappear, a man had Katniss pulled in next to him. Something about the man's body language screamed danger.

"Is that a gun?" Johanna says. Effie sees it then - a silver cylinder pressing into Katniss's neck.

"No!" Effie exclaimers to the room, although she knows it is useless. The man manoeuvres the weapon and girts his teeth.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't shoot you?"

The camera pans in on Katniss's grunting face. No answer comes. The only sound Effie is aware of is Peeta's monitor. Beep. Beep. _Beep_.

"That's it. She's gonna die." Johanna says, throwing her arms in the air. "She isn't brave anymore. She just downright stup-"

Effie hisses at Johanna to keep quiet. It was as if Johanna did not realise that it was _reality_ on the screen and that Katniss could die any moment.

The man furrows at Katniss, but then she starts speaking. A low voice.

"I guess that's the problem, isn't it? We blew up your mine. You burned my district to the ground. We each have every reason to want to kill each other. So if you wanna kill me, do it. Make Snow happy. I'm tired of killing his slaves for him. I'm not his slave. We all are. That's why I killed Cato. And he killed Thresh. And Thresh killed Clove. It just goes around and around. And who wins? Always Snow.

"I am done being a piece in his game. District Twelve, District Two… We have no fight except the one the capitol gave us. Why are you fighting the rebels? You're neighbours. You're family. These people are not your enemy. We all have one enemy. And that's Snow. He corrupts everyone and everything. He turns the best of us against each other. Stop killing for him. Tonight, turn your weapons to the capitol! Turn your weapons to Snow!"

Effie sits motionless in her seat. She was entirely convinced and on Katniss's side. The was a low-burning pride in her chest, like Katniss had just spoken for her. The girl had finally not only spoken for the rebellion clause, but also for the peacekeepers, the loyalists, the people of the Capitol and what whatever Effie was. A misfit - a fence sitting political refugee.

The air is thick with pressure by the station where Katniss is, but also inside the mental ward. Effie expects the man to pull away and for all the loyalists to give in. In fact, majority of the people caught in Cressida's frame do. She salute the Mockingjay. However, the is a movement in the corner of the shot. Effie almost does't see it.

Then someone hauls: "HOLD YOU FIRE!"

But whoever had the gun does not obey the instruction. The sound of a single bullet echoes across the room, and it flies into Katniss's chest . She falls flat onto the pavement.

"Well that was _anti-climactic_." Johanna says. **Chapter 6**

Everything went a little chaotic after that.

The hologram turned off. Johanna and Effie sat watching looking at a black wall for a few moments, the imprint of a dead Katniss still fresh in their minds.

Effie stuck her head out the door. It was very late at night, as far as she could tell and she wondered if anyone else saw the broadcast. But hospitals never sleep. Effie saw nurses and doctors staring open-mouthed at a dying screen.

Effie knew that if that was live footage, a hovercraft was going to be here soon with Katniss. She shifted through the hospital, trying to make it past doctors who were locked at replays on the screen.

Again and again and again she heard the shot that killed Katniss. She wondered if it was Beetee's error in programming, or someone on the Capitol's side having fun.

She wondered what it was about human nature that made everyone so attracted to violence. The people in the hospital stood in stock, not tearing their eyes from the screen. She did not blame them. It was ridiculously hard not to watch.

There Katniss stood, tall and brave. A gun fired and it hit her chest. She was knocked out a few meters back. She hit the floor. The screen went black…

And there she stood once again, in a perfect moment. Perfectly fearless. Almost graceful in Cinna's Mockingjay outfit…

"Cinna's outfit." Effie whispered to herself. Wasn't the Mockingjay outfit bulletproof? Relief swam through her veins.

"Well who's gonna be the face of revolution now?" a nurse said, clamping to a clipboard.

"What about Peeta?" another said.

"Better not be Peeta. He was useless even before he was a mutt." commented Johanna.

Johanna was following Effie through the hospital, still topless. Heads turned toward her and blushed away in shame.

"WHO THE HELL IS GONNA LEAD THE REVOLUTION NOW?" Johanna thundered.

"Put on a shirt, would you?" Effie throw a few hospital gowns at her.

"Why are you so cheerful, Trinket?" Johanna looked disgusted.

"Because she's not dead!" Johanna looked at her as if she was idiotic. They just saw Katniss get shot in the chest. _Multiple times_.

But Effie was almost certain. From far away Effie could make out cheers and shouting. No one would be cheering if the Mockingjay was dead. Effie galloped through the mental ward to the hospital entrance. As timing would have it, Boggs ran in with a stretcher. There was Katniss, looking very beaten up, but alive no less.

"Effie?" she croaked.

"Oh, my girl!" Effie rushed, wanting to check that Katniss was fine, but Boggs pushed her further down a hall.

"Oh… she is alive!" Effie smiled, "What did I tell you?" she turned to Johanna, "Bulletproof chest plate!"

"Yeah yeah yeah you're a genius, Trinket." Johanna cooed. Her attention was still on the stretcher, which disappeared into a room.

The next to burst through the door was Coin herself, looking hot and flushed from running. Her annoyed gaze shifted from Effie to the door and then she speed walked after Boggs. Fulvia dragged behind her, muttering all sorts of instructions under her breath.

Gale come next, directing a few injured soldiers through a door. He greeted Effie, but understandably looked distracted. A stampede of officials followed, looking lost without Coin nearby. Almost indecipherable from the crowd was a man in a tatty grey jumpsuit and black beanie.

"Haymitch!" she called.

He stuck his head up like a meerkat, hurrying towards Effie. "Where is she?" he mumbled, head darting round the room.

"Calm down, Haymitch."

"WHERE IS SHE?" he cried. His shoulders were tense and he was breathing heavily.

"Haymitch, she is alive." she instructed him sternly, "Boggs took her to the emergency room."

"I want to go-"

"You can't. Coin is in there with the doctors. Let them do their work. You will only be in the way."

"But-"

"Cinna made her a bulletproof vest, remember?" She said softly, "She isn't dead. She even said hello to me when she came past."

"I know she's not dead, Effie! I want to see her for myself." he snapped. It reminded her of the times he used to drink after both their tributes died in the arena. He certainly had the same fury in his eyes, but also something else. His anger seemed to evaporate, and he looked guilty for lashing out.

She could not quiet place his expression at that moment. Haymitch swallowed down some emotion. He was tense. Effie thought that he would cry. Instead, he nodded his head.

"She is okay."

"She is fine." Effie agreed.

"Such an idiot, that girl." Haymitch mumbled, "I told her she must try be gentle, understand the loyalists…"

"You did what you can, Haymitch." Effie said, feeling oddly anchored by trying to convince him of things he already knew. "You did what you could. She never listens to anyone. It is hardly your fault."

Johanna watched the exchange in front of her with interest. Haymitch's hands were trembling, and he was doing a hideous job at ignoring them. Johanna thought Effie would try to comfort him or something, judging by the way she was staring at him. But instead the woman just stood there, her blue eyes starting to tear up.

"Hey, Haymitch." Johanna interrupted. She snatched his beanie off of his head. "Can I lend this?"

"Oh hello Johanna." he greeted.

She pulled the beanie over her ears, smirking widely at him. A hint of her old seductive self somewhere in eyes.

"I told you to put clothes on." Effie pronounced.

Johanna pulled a face, "But I thought you liked them, Trinket?" She was back to her innocent little girl voice. Haymitch looked amused.

"It is rude to be nude in public! Did they not teach you that in District Seven?"

Effie dragged the girl the the nearest closed door. Haymitch shook his head. Once a nagging escort, always a nagging escort.

x

President Alma Coin stood tall in front of the board room, pen in hand staring at the map of Panem intently. The entire map was coloured in blue, except for the smallest portion of red near the coast. The Capitol.

"Our forces are not yet sufficient enough. We need more men if we're going to attack."

"That can easily be arrange, ma'am. We only need time." An official said.

"Time? We do not have time. Every minute we waste back here, the Capitol gets stronger."

"Stronger with what? We have all their nukes. All their hovercrafts." Gale said.

"That is true, but the Capitol will have their own stock from within." Beetee reminded him, "Including the mutation technology we do not have access to. There might be other surprises too."

"Like what?"

"Secret forces no one knows about. Say, some of the tech they used in the Hunger Games."

Plutarch nods, "They have access to over 1000 pods."

Coin eyed the dot on the map. She watched it intently, eventually zooming in onto the map. The room watched how a 3D hologram of the city appeared on the table before them.

Haymitch remembered the very first time he saw the Capitol. He was in the train, Maysilee pointing out of the open window. The tallest skyscrapers and towers boarders with great green and blue trees. The city was a character on its own, smiling in the artificial sunlight on the map. A handsome sight.

No one in the room wanted to turn it into a battlefield. If Haymitch felt resentful to tear down a sight like this before him, how how people like Plutarch feel? Or Effie? That was their home.

"What would you do, Heavensbee?" Coin asked, staring sternly at the centre of the map. A flat rectangle. Snow's mansion.

Plutarch hesitates, "I would send the citizens packing. Snow would want protection so…pods throughout the city. Everywhere."

"But is that wise of them?" Coin asked.

"Do not underestimate those pods, ma'am. They are lethal." A look of nostalgia is present on Plutarch's face. "Snow also still has a peacekeeper army on his side. As Beetee said, we are not sure of secret nuclear plans, secret defences. Even if we allow our army to grow for a few more months, we would be inferior."

"What is to say Snow won't fly away? Leave the country to some hideout without our knwoledge? Then we'd infiltrate the Capitol and just be killed for no reason."

"He wouldn't do that. Snow is not a coward." Plutarch said. There is a whisper in the room. Plutarch was the only one why knew the enemy personally.

Coin looked deep in thought. "We put 100% of our focus on military." she proposed. "Not only here, but in the Districts. When we have a decently-sized army, we attack, from the edges inwards."

The officials chant in agreement.

"That is good, but we have to be quick." Plutarch adds.

"I agree. We have to act faster than we imagine. The longer we wait, the bigger our disadvantage."

"How long do you propose, Beetee?

"No more than a month."

"Three weeks." Plutarch pushes.

"Three weeks for an army the size of 20 000 troops? We cannot possibly train anyone in three weeks."

"But they have been training throughout the year." Coin says, "At least most of the refugees in Thirteen has. Can pass with 15 000?"

Beetee looks around the room to the other officials. "Maybe." he says.

"12 000?"

"I say at least 17 000. The 12 000 we have here, as well as the trainees in Ten and Eleven."

"I say we extend the time frame by a few days, ma'am. Out troops in Eleven need three weeks at the most."

"What about two weeks?" Coin suggests.

"I don't know." A grey commander says, "Three weeks is the bare minimum soldiers need, but we also need time to come up with a proper attacking strategy."

"Can it be pushed to two weeks?" Coin insists.

Everyone is fixed on the little mason on the map, ringed by the most impressive structures. Coin had never been inside the big city. Haymitch thought that she perhaps misunderstood the scale of the place, or the size of Snow's private peacekeeper army.

The collection of commanders shuffle nervously around the table, muttering amongst each other.

Plutach is the one to speak up: "Yes, okay. Fine. Two weeks would be sufficient, but if an extension is needed, we will need it. I do not want to go in here blind."

"We won't." Coin says, "Beetee will get us eyes and ears. If they plan something, we will know about it."

"Yes, ma'am." Beetee nods so hard, he has to adjusts his glasses.

Haymitch could tell the meeting was almost over. Now Coin would just brief everyone individually, and they could go to dinner.

"Mockingjay One." she starts at the top of her list. A portion of the room stirs. "Is Miss Everdeen awake yet?"

"Sleeping beauty opened her eyes yesterday." Haymitch announces, "Almost on her feet. Doctors say she'll be able to rant in front of a camera in no time."

This breaks the room into a giggle.

"We'll have to keep that one off the battlefield." Plutarch says, "No place for bows in a war against Snow."

"Except when she executes him eventually." Haymitch adds.

Even Coin manages to smile at that. She scans her list further. "What about your propaganda, Cressida?"

"I wanted to talk to you about that, actually." Cressida stands up. "In this two week 'grace-period', Plutarch and I thought we could continue airing the victor videos. We can show footage of our troops preparing here in Thirteen. Get the districts buzzing, you know. But I also thought of something else…"

Cressida gestures to the doorway of the room, where Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta stand hand in hand. Haymitch had not seen them lurking there.

"Good afternoon, all." Finnick greets, "I came here to ask a favour, madam President. We, Annie and I, want to get married."

The strictness of the military lecture a few minutes back is greatly contrasted by the reaction that follows.

"A wedding!" Octavia rejoices.

"A real life wedding?" The stylists were buzzing.

"With a dress and a cake and-"

"A wedding in Thirteen?" Fulvia questions, but then answers her own question as to why. "Oh, because you want to use it as propo."

"That's right." Cressida smiles.

"This is marvellous!"

"A _wedding_ as propo?" one of the grey officers spat. "Please!"

"Hold your horses, Commander Gonzalez. I think this could send a very strong message out to the districts. If Finnick and Annie can be aired live, we could show the Capitol that we are not afraid of a war against them. In fact, we are preparing for the long life that awaits us all after Snow is gone."

"It would paint Thirteen as something a little more personal." Plutarch adds carefully, "We can bring in traditions from all the districts. Create a sense of unification."

"A celebration of love and of friendship amongst the people of the rebellion." Finnick grins a wide smile, putting an arm around Annie.

"Will there be dancing? Oh there will be dancing, won't there Cressida? I haven't been to a party in _ages_."

"I am sure we can arrange something." Plutarch winks.

"And what about her dress-"

"Excuse me." Coin clears her throat. As the whole room was bantering away about decorations, the other end of the table was dead. The grey uniformed officials looked at the stylists as if they were speaking a different language. "What do you mean a dress?"

The stylists stared at Coin.

"A wedding dress?"

Coin and her officials looked repelled against the idea.

"A wedding dress?" Coin repeats.

Then Haymitch understands. To Coin, marriage must be nothing more than signing a document of sorts and moving into a new compartment. What everyone else had in mind was something different entirely.

Plutarch volunteers to oppose Coin. "I think it would be a good idea to show a lighthearted side to the rebellion. Perhaps the inclusion of a tradition from each district is not a bad idea either."

There is a testing silence. Coin frowns slightly, "Fine."

The stylists cheer.

"We could make her a dress!"

"Or just up-cycle that one Cinna-"

"Guys, maybe we could get some food from-"

Coin clears her throat obnoxiously, "I am fine with the _wedding propo_." The words roll distastefully of her tongue. "But I want someone to take charge. Everything is going to be under strict supervision."

"I say we make Delly Calrwright do it. She knows Annie really well."

"Not it has got to be Cressida. It was her idea." Gale says. "Or Plutarch."

"Yeah, I nominate Plutarch!"

Plutarch smiles from amongst the other commanders. "I don't want to take that responsibly when our core focus is still the war." he reminds the room. The stylists are shushed. "But if there's one person who is going to organise a wedding, it has to be Effie."

"Effie Trinket?" Coin frowns at Plutarch.

"She is the best." Plutarch states simply. "Not one throws a party better than Effie."

"Yes! Remember that one four years ago in July right before Johanna Mason's Games?"

"Or that winter one that she and Cinna-"

"Enough!" Coin silences, "We can discuss the proceedings for the wedding when Soldier Trinket gets up here."

A few minutes later, Effie is back in the board room with every ounce of protest she had inside on visible display. She had been told Coin was looking for her, and she was not impressed. Effie thought that being kick off the team was humiliating enough, but being called back upset Effie even more. Why would Coin find th—-

She took her time to put on her pink sunglasses. Her pink heels echoed through the rooms she entered. She did not need to put on Capitol clothes to remind everyone that she had the most sass in the room.

"I understand you need my assistance, _madam president._ "

"Yes, soldier. I have a special assignment for you."

"We want you to organise Finnick and Annie's wedding." Plutarch explained, "It will be airing as propo before the attack on the Capitol."

"A wedding?" Effie repeats, looking over at Finnick. He winks at her. "I -"

It was not at all what she was expecting. When Coin said special assignment, her head floated back to her duties. Perhaps something to do with Peeta, but a _wedding_ … The very word wedding contrasted so sharply with the concrete walls of the room that she could not help but grin.

"You want me to arrange a wedding?" she asks, looking excitably at the handsome couple beside her.

"It will be under strict control. The priority will be propo, so discuss everything with Cressida and her team. Any special arrangements that you come up with will have to run everything past Plutarch and myself."

Coin walks up to Effie and hands her a tablet. "It will be held by the conference room on Level 37. Most of the practicalities are on this-"

Effie had seen tablets being carried around by Coin's many officers. The device felt heavy in her hands, almost like it should not be there. On the screen is a neatly printed citizen card and picture of herself in grey District Thirteen robes. Effie taps of the surface of the machine, and sees a plan pop up: 'Propo 23. Finnick and Annie Odair's Wedding'. She sees a map of the conference room appear, lists of kitchen staff and most surprising: A hovercraft and assigned crew members.

"You are dismissed, Soldier Trinket." Coin prompts at the door.

"Good luck." Plutarch adds.

Effie mumbles what she vaguely remembers as a thank you, and leaves the room. Once she is gone the commander and the president can hear squeals of delight.

"A wedding!" Flavius exclaims, "When was the last time you even dared to think of something like a wedding!"

"And it's _Finnick Odair's_ wedding! This is perfect."

"Calm down, would you." Haymitch grumbles to the stylists. He walks across them, leaning in to see Effie's screen. "So what's the plan?"

Effie hums thoughtfully. "Well the dress is the most important feature." she starts, achieving smiles from the stylists. "And Finnick's suit, of course."

"But there is nothing but grey in this place." Octavia states the obvious.

"Not so fast." Effie points at the screen.

"A hovercraft?" Haymitch whispers, "Your own personal hovercraft?"

"Then you can get anything from any district in Panem!"

"Don't be a brick, Octavia. We can't go to the Capitol."

Effie silences them by putting a hand in the air, "Children," she says in her professional voice, "We have been gifted with the task of arranging the wedding of the decade. Please allow me to take charge."

And then Haymitch goes through the audial of having four stylists and a escort discuss "what we'll make the most gorgeous occasion since Milik Autumnbrook's New Year's party".

There is mentions of fabric, —

"Have you done this before?" Haymitch asks off-hand.

The stylists' dyed eyebrows furrowed in his direction. Then they burst into laughter - the Capitol kind which comprised of high-pitched _tee-hee_ 's

Effie brushed her friends aside, "This will be my seventh wedding." she told Haymitch.

"You've planned _six_ weddings?" he asked doubtfully.

"Don't look so surprised. I became an escort because I am so good at organising events. You of all people should know that."

"Fair enough, but _six weddings_? Who has the money?" he asks, and then remembers they come from the Capitol, "Who has the _time_? I've only attended about three weddings in my whole life."

"That is a tragedy." Flavius says, "Because I've been married three times."

"Four for me." Venia brags, "The last one was a transvestite. Horrendous man."

Haymitch's mouth hangs open, trying to imagine how low the standards of the people in the Capitol were. "What about you?" he asks Effie.

"Oh Effie's never been married." Venia chips in, surprised that Haymitch does not know. "She is too perfect to get married. No human exists to live up to her standards."

"Or she's just too picky." Flavius suggests, "Can we all take a moment to remember Nathan?"

They all sigh dreamily, chorusing a " _Naaathan…_ "

Effie just shakes her head, "I prefer being on the backseat." she says, not really convincing anyone - least of all Haymitch. "I did my three sisters' weddings, and Cinna's wedding, and my friend Jacquenette's and-"

"And my wedding." said Octavia, a little embarrassed. "It was a beautiful ceremony down in the Copperbelly Park. Very few people were invited and Jackie and I… You did more than we could have asked for."

"And it was my pleasure." Effie says, squeezing Octavia's hand. They share a moment of recollection. "So you see, Haymitch, I'm practically married already if you count all the things I've organised."

The stylists giggle at this.

"And I'll be honoured to have you all on my team for this one. Finnick and Annie's wedding is going to be unforgettable, my darlings, simply _unforgettable_. We are going to show these cave-dwellers what real fun is supposed to look like."

x

Coin had only given him two tasks: Get Peeta back to the world and get Katniss to to help with the task. The girl, of course, had her mind set on different things. Between Gale, Boggs and the other 20 000 military fanatics in District Thirteen, Katniss had decided she wanted to be a soldier.

"Come on, kid. You and I both know they're never going to send you to that front line."

"And why won't they? I've united the districts, haven't I? The Mockingjay has done what she needs to do. Now I get to choose what I want to do." Katniss says, stubborn as a rock.

Haymitch looks down at her uncertainly.

"It's not like I'm doing it alone. Johanna and I-"

"You want to be a soldier with Johanna Mason? You can barley breath, Katniss. And answer me this: how much training have you done since you came to Thirteen? I hate to be the one breaking it to you, but you are not a soldier. Rather focus your talents on something you know you can accomplish."

"What like Peeta?" she barked.

"Yeah, like Peeta."

Then she gets up from her hospital bed, "He is a mutt, Haymitch. Have you ever seen a tracker jacker turn into a butterfly?"

"Has anyone ever tried to reverse it?" he argues, but then she is gone, probably crawling into the nearest dark corner. Haymitch moans into the air in frustration.

"She's just so fucking selfish." he tells Effie that night, making her flinch by cursing.

"Well, teenagers are inconsiderate in general." she starts, "But you are probably right." she adds, seeing his scowl form.

The Peeta task had not gone considerably better than trying to take Katniss. While Haymitch was in Two, a bunch of doctors had tired all sorts of techniques to get him to remember the truth. This included 'revamping his senses' to eradicate the layer of fallacy the tracker jacker lemon had bestowed upon him. This had had almost not sucess.

The first thing Haymitch did when he got to the mental ward is chased the idiot doctors away. He knew how little success the phycologist have with patients - he was a prime example himself.

Since Katniss was in no place to do anything but attempt solider training with Johanna, Haymitch had organised for Delly Cartwright to help. She was Peeta's neighbour, and had known him before he met Katniss. Peeta's response to a conversation with her went better than anyone could have hoped, until Delly mistakenly brought up the Seam. The boy then started shout all sorts of things involving Katniss's name, and the whole task went down as a disaster.

Meanwhile at dinner each night, Greasy Sae forced Haymitch to sit in the kitchen and talk about his day. It was a futile task, because being in Sae's company bought up two things he really did not want to think about: the horrible time in his life when Sae cared for him, and those mornings in the Seam when she drank with him.

The brew that Ripper had fermented in her bathtub gave him goosebumps. The thought of the stuff's intense bitter smell, and then the metallic aftertaste it had in his throat. He had drunk so much of the stuff that he remembered the warm hum it left in his brain for days afterwards. The thought of that hum made him anxious. He needed it, fast, and Greasy Sae speaking about it so often did not help in the slightest.

"You know old Ripper lost her best customer when you left for 'dem Hunger Games each year. I had to share my rations with her when you left each summer. Cost a near fortune. It was probably for 'dem best in the end. When little Haymitch comes back, he buys even more."

It made him prickle with annoyance - or was it the need to relapse - whenever she spoke of it. He could not bare to think of the last time he was called 'little Haymitch', but he supposed could not be angry at her. She was only sorting through her own grief for a dead district and a dead Ripper. He saddened when he thought of a dead Ripper.

Haymitch was relieved when Effie showed for meals. She kept them busy with her wedding business, never shutting up once they got her started. There was so much she had to think about for the wedding. Haymitch only really noticed the extent of her special assignment when she first started complaining to the kitchen staff one night.

From trying to get to meet Finnick and Annie's personal desires regarding the ceremony, to filleting through the many ideas of her stylists came up with and then finally getting Coin and Plutarch to approve it all. It was a great task, which Effie struggled to keep contained. One particular evening she was going on about decorations. Apparently she wanted to include the natural beauty of the farming districts into the wedding. Haymitch did not know where her inspiration came from exactly - the Capitol was not exactly a forest - but he did like the idea.

"Fulvia and Coin are allowing me to use the hovercraft to get some trees for the hall." she said.

The eyes in the kitchen rounded in astonishment.

"Oh I don not get to ride in the hovercraft personally." Effie added, defusing everyone's excitement. "But the pilot that got assigned to me is quiet accommodating. We can get some fruits trees from District Eleven; some pine from Seven and perhaps wheatgrass from Nine. I think the young wheatgrass - it is still very green at this time of the year - will compliment the airiness of Annie's dress well, don't you think? I do recall Finnick saying something about the youth-"

And then she was off again, so deep in her own thoughts that she did not realise she was interrupting herself by the speed at which she was talking. Haymitch did not mind. He quiet liked looking at her while her head bobbed in concentration. It made her headscarf flap up and down, almost reminding him of with she still wore those ridiculous wigs.

After each meal, Effie would follow Haymitch down to the level of the hospital after dinner. Her mind would finally be cleared of wedding-business, so he could spend the time with her in relative peace.

They would collectively check up on Peeta before disappearing off to their compartments. Haymitch would show the progress he and his team had had thought the day, or lack thereof.

"He asked to speak to Prim this morning."

"And why is that significant?" Effie wondered, putting her hands on the railing and looking at Peeta sleep.

"Because he and Prim were never of them alone. I mean, his memories of Prim are all directly connected to Katniss."

"Oh, yes." Effie nodded, "But would Peeta not make that connection in his head?"

"I think he forgot. I was hoping he would just talk about something abstract but… The meeting did not go as planned. It ended like it usually does." Haymitch said sadly.

"Well he does look peaceful in his sleep." Effie observed, "We should be glad he is sleeping, actually. He only really started sleeping that night Katniss got shot."

"He is getting better." Haymitch agreed, "He was taking about Delly this afternoon."

"Did she go in again. I am glad. So brave of that girl to do what she does." Effie smiled, "I wish I could do something to help."

"You're planning the biggest celebration that Thirteen's ever seen. I think you can be excused from Peeta duty.

"I'll do anything but laundry." she joked.

"I though farming was the worst?"

"It is defiantly laundry. All those hideous grey jumpsuits."

Haymitch laughs, sitting back in his chair. The air is quiet while they watch - the only irritation in the dead of night being the heart rate monitor.

"I think I got an idea." Effie states, facing him, "What if we get Peeta to make the wedding cake? You said he was taking about baking, didn't you?"

And then he was thinking of the old Peeta as a little boy in the bakery. He remembered those gingerbread men he crafted, or the lavish cakes he crafted. Even just the sketches the boy had done after the 74th Games had helped him cope with his grief.

"That might- wow that is the best idea you've had so far." he admitted.

She smiled self-satisfactory, hands behind her back. If Haymitch wasn't busy thinking of a plan to get icing sugar into District Thirteen, he would have noticed her burning cheeks.

"We can get him to think of his family. And then afterwards we could explain we it was, subtly explaining how he knows Finnick from the Games, and then Katniss, Oh this is a really good plan!" He praises.

"That is if Coin will approve of so many unnecessary nutrients that comes with cake." Effie reminds him.

They debate the topic until they come to the elevator. They would have to split now. She would go up to her compartment and he would go down to his.

"Wow, thank you so much for that. I think Plutarch might just love me after I tell him about that. I will tell him it was your idea, of course."

"Good-night, Haymitch."

"Yeah. Thank you, er-" he debates on calling her on her first name, "-princess."

"Now did I mention that I liked you better sober?"

Then the elevator doors close on his laughing face, and on her shy smile. He was still so flabbergasted by her good idea that he forgot why he was walking back to the hospital.

Hiding behind a door until the coast was clear, he rushed into a storeroom. He dug deep inside his pockets to retrieve his old hip flask. Carefully, he filled it with white spirits. He discreetly placed an empty bottle of surgical spirits onto the shelf amongst the full ones. It took a lot of effort to be able to drink in District Thirteen. The very last thing he'd want is for someone to take that away from him.


	4. Chapter 7 - it does not finish(see AN2)

**Chapter 7**

There are no wedding bells in District Thirteen, but the talk of Finnick and Annie's wedding had been enough to make up for the lack them.

The people were streaming in from all angles of the room. Couples walked hand in hand, children's heads turned up toward the vast ceiling. Effie could feel the buzz.

Finnick stood in front of the audience, shoulders broad in newly tailored suit. He looked older than Effie had ever seem him. An ancient content spun behind his eyes when Annie walked down the aisle. She had on a concoction of a dress that came from many places. The base of the dress was Cinna's dress for Katniss, but from there the stylists had carefully sewn fishing nets onto the folds, giving it a distinctly District Four feel.

Most of the wedding was like that, a jumble of different traditions and cultures from the districts. So much so, that it did not feel like a wedding at times.

Cressida and her team's presence was the main attribute to this. They were situated at random points in the room, ready to capture the each moment of the ceremony. Effie felt it was a bit forced when the cameramen suspended artificial lighting on either side of the hall. At times it felt almost unnatural, like when Finnick and Annie said their vows. Even that had to have been pre-approved by Coin. She cringed deeply when the words "free from restraints" came up in Annie's speech. That had to be Plutarch's input no doubt, to make sure the propo remained effective. But Finnick and Annie's love remained unquestioned. There was no doubt that the ceremony was beautiful.

Effie had always pictured her own wedding to be in wintertime. A snowy wedding did not appeal to everyone, but she quiet liked the idea people hanging up their fur coats before entering the building, dancing inside while the usual Capitol blizzards raged outside.

But upon seeing the setting she had decorated to perfection, she thought that a spring or summer wedding might be better in the end. The soft wheatgrass from District Nine gave the room an airy feeling, like they were in a meadow. Other than that, Effie had ensured there was mementos from each district.

The most difficult to find was District Twelve and Five. The sufficient number of District Five refugees provided her with a cello player, who had mingled with Twelve's fiddler. Without even trying, the two districts who seemed to have the least personality were providing the music.

Soon the people were dancing, but not in the way she'd seen at Capitol weddings. There was collaboration that involved more than two people in an intricate clapping pattern. It was the first moment she saw real joy amongst the people of District Thirteen, and she knew then that she had succeeded. She had given the people relief from their repetitive duties, relief from the war, and a chance to let their hair down.

Effie retreated far away from the dancers after while. All she could do was stand there and clap her hands to the beat of the fiddler, looking like a seal. It made her feel idiotic. She did not know how to squeeze herself into their culture, and she did not think that she would have been welcomed if she tried.

"Soldier Trinket." a voice announced. She almost thought the it was Coin because of the formality of the tone, but turned to find Max Rancour standing at the door.

"Oh - hello." she said.

"It's looking good, I see."

Then she saw Greasy Sae grap Haymitch by the hand, forcing him to join the crowd.

She felt enclosed from their culture.

She wandered to the outskirts where she could watch the scene better.

She could see Johanna stalking up to her from the other side of the hall.

She had HAymitch's beanie on still. It stayed parallel to her eyebrows.

"Now you do not have to answer, Trinket, but I think I'm right. You love him, don't you?"

It was not like other weddings Effie had planned in the past. There was something very wrong about everyone arriving in grey jumpsuits. She and Octavia had spent the morning getting Annie ready. Effie got to but on her old wig, which did her so much good.


End file.
